#like she is allowed in the kitchen and has her spots where she can just witness the cooking

[dont-look-its-embarrassing]

To be Understood

Second part to "To be Seen"

Hey! I honestly didn't think people would like the last drabble as much as they did and I didn't have a pt.2 planned, but I decided to try and see where it goes.

Also, I am new to actually posting something and having feedback or having people want to be tagged, so I didn't do something right in the tagging process pls let me know :)

I am going to make this a little series bc I cannot fit the entirety of the story in one and actually make it comprehensive and not 10,000+ words in one one-shot. :)))

Plus, I think I could make this just the right amount of heart wrenching and fluffy >:)

Summary: Following up on his promise to keep a more watchful position in your newly transitioned life, Azriel attempts to get to know you and spend time in your presence. After the panic attack in the town of Velaris, more seeing eyes has been turned towards you from your friends. They are trying to make sure you are accounted for more than before, but time and pressure has some things slipping. Multiple awkward encounters and attempts to see eye to eye to the spymaster (in particular) leads to an intimate confession between the two of you.

Warnings: Slight mentions of PTSD recovery, anxiety, self-doubt, slight!jealous Azriel, Cassian is testing the waters with his brother again

Words: 2,668

previous part

The sun was the first thing your eyes adjusted to upon waking up. The slight breeze from the open window brought in the fresh smell of the dew and had your body relaxing further into the comfy sheets as the temperature in the room reflected that of outside. The eccentricity of your room bringing comfort and serenity and the little nicknacks you have collected since being here allowed a cozy feeling to emulate throughout it.

Feyre even mentioned how jealous she was of how comfortable and warm your room is, and mentioned she couldn’t get hers to be similar even when she tried.

The memory had you smiling.

Stretching underneath the comfortable weighted comforter, you pull back the edge, allowing your body to be exposed to the colder air. Grabbing the longer silk robe that hung beside you, you made your way out of your comfort zone to the hallway towards the kitchen. Ever since your moment within the town, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, everyone had made sure that you were taken care of and heard. It took some time to get used to, admittedly, all the extra attention. At first you had slightly resented it as you could only imagine it as an act of pity and after you had an episode, you also understood that the type of thinking is how the eldest Archereon is as cold as she is. Plus, the time you spend with them has created strong bonds and happy memories for you.

It also had you picking up new hobbies that you never had time for before.

Turns out you can cook.

And bake.

Really well actually.

So well that often times when you bake a new treat or snack, upon knowing of its presence, the residents of the house would have it gone within the hour. It made you feel good, to be able to repay in some way the aid they have given you.

The mystery that is your abilities have yet to be explored since the outburst, but you also didn’t mind as your head was finally wrapping around the circumstances you have been put through. Although, the High Lord or Rhys, had expressed interest in potentially figuring it out soon to see if it could help them and the court. You were all over it, and the aspect of integrating into this family further made you excited.

Arriving in the kitchen, you begin gathering ingredients to make breakfast. The house, although it can provide anything you wish for food, seemed to pick up on your therapeutic hobby and promoted it. Even gathering ingredients and appearing them before you on the counterspace. You always chalked it up to the house wanting a break from constantly taking care of people, but deep down you knew it seemed to have a little soft spot for you. Whipping together the batter, throwing it in the divine oven and cooking the meats to perfection, the breakfast is ready in about an hour.

The sun had settled into the sky, far from shining over the horizon which had its’ light wake you.

It was still early though.

Looking at the spread before you, you had asked the house to keep it warm and ready for everyone as they began to roll out of bed and chase the heavenly scent of pancakes, bacon and omelet.

It was Azriel’s favorite.

The skin of your cheeks flared at the thought and shook your head at how absurd you are. Cooking and baking for everyone allowed you to take notice of things that they had favored over the rest, often being expressed vocally. However, some, like the spymaster, just through body language and action would key you into likes and dislikes. Feyre loved eggs benedict, in almost nauseatingly cuteness, so did her mate. When you would make it, almost as a sixth sense, those two would always be the first to arrive and express how happy the dish made them before gathering a large plate. Cassian was a sandwich guy, anything quick and simple, but he swears you enchant the sausage and bacon you add to be sweet and salty at the same time. On those days you often must make a bounty of those little sandwiches for him to take with him for the day. Mor liked simple muffins and like Cass, would wrap one up to go while giving you a hug on her way out. Nesta and Elaine hadn’t showed up for breakfast but the youngest seemed to prefer oatmeal, which ironically was also her favorite while human.

Azriel was the hardest to read. With every dish you made, breakfast/lunch/dinner, he would appreciate and eat like a man starved (an exaggeration but you always found your eyes on him anyway). You had switched up the recipes and altered the assortment of foods, but every time he would tell you how much he liked it and clear the plate.

It wasn’t until you truly watched him did you found out just how much he loved the simple things in life.

It was a day like any other, you had cooked breakfast and set up the table for a nice meal as you had known everyone would be able to sit and eat together. It was uncommon so you made a tried-and-true love by everyone.

Bacon, eggs and pancakes with homemade lavender syrup that you asked Elaine to harvest for you in her garden.

As everyone sat, you couldn’t help but let your eyes stare as the spymaster sat down fresh out of bed and allowed a little small smile to grace his features looking at the plate he had. It was all you needed to know, and each time you would serve something new, you would watch for the little ticks that he would allow to shine through.

A smile.

A little sigh and relief of tension from his shoulders.

A gentle extra “Thank you” which he would all but whisper across the table to you.

All of it had your heart thumping and blood rushing to your face, allowing that little butterfly to turn into hundreds.

After his comment after taking you home, he had made his presence around you more common and you loved it. Every time the two of you were together time became irrelevant, the serene sense that would settle over your body was addictive. You had only prayed that he got the same sense of belonging.

He was such a pretty male.

So gentle and observant.

It was so hard to not have your feelings bleed into your everyday life and movements. It wasn’t long after the incident with him that your thoughts were all but consumed by him.

Not that you were complaining.

“It smells divine in here.” The soft sound of Mor broke you out of your rather long thoughts of Az, as an easy smile fell over your face.

“I wanted to make something simple today.” You shrug, but meeting the second hand’s eyes, you stumbled slightly.

“How are you settling in Y/n?” Her tone was inquisitive, but the smile that bloomed her face left you choking.

“Well.” You coughed, “I’m settling in well.”

“Anyone in particular helping you out?” You narrowed your eyes to her.

“Everyone has been amazing.”

“Oh, come on Y/n!” She shuffled towards you as mischief glinted in her eyes. “You can tell me; we all see it.”

Your heart stopped.

“All?” Her light laughter halted.

“No not all, some though.” Your breathing resumed. “I highly doubt if you wrote a sign with all these love meals, he still wouldn’t see it.” It was chastising, lovingly, but still with a little edge to it.

“He is just being friendly Mor.” You argue with a sigh. It was the one thought you couldn’t get out of your head. Viewing his relationship with everyone and his attentiveness towards Elaine. You couldn’t help but just feel as if he enjoyed your presence, but as a friend.

Mor sighed and looked towards the still steaming pile of pancakes and syrup.

“I know it can be difficult to believe, but he’s more relaxed around you. If any two people deserve to be happy or even have a shot, it’s you two.” The sounds of footsteps down the hall had her breaking away from you but not without a nod sent towards her. You would be open to him and the idea, more than just the little crush you have accumulated.

The in-question footsteps that had the conversation halting belonged to Feyre, Rhys and the male in question. Most likely fresh from training as small beads of sweat pooled on their skin and hair showed dampness.

You watched the spymaster’s eyes alight, taking in the assortment of his favorites on the counter. He quickly grabbed a plate, effortlessly and unbeknownst to his high lord and lady, cutting in front of them to scoop his desired piles.

“Y/n, you are the most amazing person I have ever met.” Feyre exclaimed as her body seemed to quiver with the simple task of standing, but her obviously salivating mouth had her also reaching for cutlery and plates to pile stuff onto. Rhys laughed in response to her antics and followed suit, thanking you in the process as both followed the now seated Azriel to the table. It was sweet, his honor to wait for you to be seated and with food to begin eating. You could tell some days it really tried his control; however, those days you knew without a shadow of a doubt that he truly loved the food that had been prepared. Glancing back towards the table, you met eyes briefly with Azriel.

The warmth that showed in them had you ignite with hope and adoration towards the male, almost uncontrollably so. It had you smiling and fiddling at the ends of your hair.

The following sounds of heavier steps broke your attention.

“Can I just say, I am in love with you.” Cassian entered the kitchen with heat and brought you into a quick embrace. The smell of sweat and sand had you scrunching your nose but the laugh that exited you had him add a little spin before setting you down.

The soft sound of a chair being moved echoed as you didn’t realize the table had become quiet, watching.

Mor had a shit eating grin, but not at you, but at the now walking over Spymaster. The same spymaster picked up your loaded plate (you were waiting for everyone to be served before doing so yourself) and brought it back to the table, setting it down in the open seat across from himself. You tilted your head but caught the small look between the mates at the table, notably having a non-verbal conversation. Looking back at the general, he too had a smile, but one only aimed at you and the food in front of you.

“I’ll be over once I pile the rest of the bacon on.” Another laugh emitted from you as you walked over to your place, noting the food had been set down gently and not disturbed when Azriel had placed it.

You looked up and met his hazel eyes, there was a slight edge to it, but not at you. In fact, when you met his eyes, you could’ve sworn they melted from that ice back to the warmth that was once there before.

The settling of plates had you glance over at Cassian. He was only a seat away from, you but on the other side of the table.

Easy conversation settled over the table as everyone began to eat. Taking bites of your eggs and bacon, a small moan of appreciation rattled through you. You caught movement in your peripheral where Azriel sat, but didn’t bother to check or see what it was assuming it was just him enjoying his meal.  Even you had to admit this was good. Similar sounds followed suit as everyone dug in and the sounds of scraping of plates that filled the room.

“Are you busy today?” Cassian piped up after shoveling a rather large mouthful of egg. You shook your head; you didn’t think you had anything planned but were going to ask if Azriel had a couple hours to spare for some time alone with him to talk. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could Az had cleared his throat and spoke up.

“We have plans.” The room turned towards the male as he stared at his brother, the ice returning to his gaze. You wracked your brain trying to make sure you didn’t forget plans that you had made prior but came up empty. That grin from Mor returned as she made eye contact with you.

Suddenly the leftover soggy pancakes on your plate looked really interesting.

“Oh?” The brother threw back. Looking over to Cassian again, you nodded along feigning innocence.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten for a moment.” Although you knew your best friend and possibly Mor clocked it quick, you allowed the easy smile to lay it on thick with the general. He returned it and nodded along, taking the lie for a simple slip of the mind.

“No problem, but when you’re free I want to show you around the training grounds. I think it could be good for you.” Your chest filled with pride again, even some that you didn’t think could be your own, but none the less made you feel all nice. As everyone cleaned up and filed out, you caught eyes with Azriel.

His shoulders were tense.

Nervous even.

The depth of his shadows swirled around him as he took particularly long to wash up his plate.

Watching the last of your friends exit the kitchen and the food clean itself up and put away, you made light steps over to the shadowsinger.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” You ask. The feign confidence of your words had Az glancing over with a small smile. Releasing a little sigh, he removed his eyes from his now empty hands which wrapped around the front of the sink. He had leaned into it, seemingly matching your confident air.

“Anything you want, sunshine.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away. Today was a record for heat that entered your face. You tried your best not to allow the nerves in your stomach to ruin the encounter.

You would be fine.

It’s just two friends hanging out.

All normal here.

But the ideas that Mor had fed into your brain ran rampant.

“There is a bakery and some shops I want to explore. Can we go today?” You originally had plans to go with Feyre. In fact, she had made you swear you wouldn’t go without her because she heard the pastries were divine.

She would forgive you once she knew who you went with instead.

“Of course, I’ve been meaning to make a couple stops as well. We can go together.” You couldn’t help the small seed of selfishness from talking as you held eye contact with the male.

“Can you fly us down? I’m still not used to winnowing.” It was the most believable lie you have ever let slip past your lips, but you didn’t feel sorry about it. Would you ever admit it was because you wanted to be pressed against him with adrenaline rushing through you? Or that you wanted to feel his strong arms hold you without a single ounce of sweat or issue? Perhaps that you wanted to smell his scent of frost and night and hope to any god that would listen that it would cling to the sweater you would wear. Not if your life depended on it and there was a sword slitting your throat.

However, something in the way Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly and his smile turned into a smirk had you second guessing how thoroughly your ulterior motives had been hidden.

“Anything for you Sunshine, wouldn’t dream of making you ill.”

He clocked it.

Tags:

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @willowpains @adventure-awaits13 @

[midnightstar-90]

In Charge

Cooper Family x Fem!Reader | Georgie Copper x Fem!Reader Taglist | Requests | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Other Actors and Characters Masterlist Requested Anonymously: “hi honey! i have no idea if your still taking requests but if you are, could you do a georgie cooper x fem!reader (where they are already dating), and that missy some how convinces everyone to pretend to be a family (like georgie’s the dad, y/n is the mum, sheldon and missy are the kids) and at the end when y/n stays over georgie tells them how great of a mum she would be and how he wants to start a family with her? just pure fluff? love your work so so much <333” Summary: The reader’s in charge and all she wants is Peace, which leads to an interesting conversation between her and Georgie. Warnings: None, really. I mean, there's fluff, but other than that... nothing really A/N: My ADHD is allowing me to write today, so that is what I shall do. This will be based before Georgie drops out of school and has a kid. And because it was an anonymous request, I couldn’t ask, but instead of playing house, I made it as the reader babysitting. That’s kind of like playing house right? I just didn’t know how to make it about them playing house without it basically being Y/N and Georgie babysitting. If you requested this and didn’t like it, I will rewrite it as them all playing house, just privately DM me, if you’d like to remain anonymous. Words: 2.4K

“Alright, everyone, I’m headed to the store,” Mary said as she exited her room. She made her way through the living room seeing Y/N and Georgie cuddled up on the couch, flipping through channels with no one else in sight.

Mary turned to Georgie and asked, “Where’s your father?”

Georgie’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as he gave his mother a shrug of the shoulders. Y/N saw this and slapped Georgie’s shoulder with a hard glare. “Georgie, it’s disrespectful to ignore your mother,” the teenage girl said sternly.

“Ow!” Georgie exclaimed, looking away from the TV to observe his arm for a bruise. When he realized he was okay, he looked up, looking between his girlfriend and his mother. “I didn’t ignore her. I said that I didn’t know.”

Y/N glared and rolled her eyes at the boy before looking over at her boyfriend’s mother. “I don’t know where he went, but he was grumbling about having a hard day,” She said, answering Mary for Georgie. Mary thanked the girl before continuing into the kitchen with a scoff. She mumbled her husband’s name, annoyed, and called out, “Y/N’s in charge.” Georgie’s eyes instantly went wide in shock as he stared wide-eyed at the kitchen entrance, unable to actually see his mother from his current position. Y/N sat next to him with a smirk as they heard the sound of keys jingling and a door closing.

As soon as the door closed, Sheldon stormed out of his room, looking as if he was about to blow his top. “Mom!” He loudly called out, not receiving an answer. 

Georgie paid no mind to the boy, instead bringing him back to the television as if nothing happened. Y/N looked over at the boy with caring eyes and said, “She just left. What’s up, bud.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Sheldon asked frantically.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. Is it something I can help with?”

Sheldon hesitated, not knowing if he trusted Y/N enough to help him. He wasn’t used to going to people outside of his family for help. He huffed, “Missy took my Flash action figure, and she won’t give it back.”

Y/N stood from her spot on the couch. Georgie gave her a quick look and then turned back to the TV. “I’m sure Missy wasn’t trying to intentionally upset you, Sheldon,” The girl reassured him in a soft voice.

Sheldon gave Y/N a blank stare. “Have you met my sister?”

She chuckled and said, “Come on. Let’s see for ourselves.”

She followed Sheldon to his shared room, leaving Georgie alone on the couch. As they entered, the two spotted Missy sitting on her bed playing with a Barbie doll and Sheldon’s Flash action figure.”

“See!” Sheldon exclaimed, pointing directly at his twin.

Y/N let out a small “mhm” as she moved to sit on Missy’s bed, next to her. “Hi, Missy.”

“Hi,” She responded, continuing to play with the doll and action figure. (I know there are people who would ridicule me if I put the action figure in the “dolls” category, so I’ll leave it at that.)

“Whatcha doing?”

“Playing.”

Y/N heard a frustrated groan behind her and quietly sighed.

“Missy?” Y/N spoke a bit more sternly than before.

“Hmm.” Missy looked up at the older girl.

“Did you take Sheldon’s to-”

“Action figure,” Sheldon cut the girl off to correct her.

“Did you take your brother’s Action Figure without asking?” Y/N asked. The younger girl gave the teenager an apologetic frown as she slowly placed the dolls on the bed. Sheldon swooped in behind the girl and snatched his Flash action figure from off of his twin’s bed.

“It’s not very nice to take people’s things without asking. What if Sheldon did it to you?”

“I’d punch him in the face,” Missy Responded. 

Y/N scolded Missy, causing her to shy away. “Apologise to your brother.”

“But-”

“I said apologise.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” Y/N said, still scolding the child in front of her. She heard a snicker behind her and slowly turned to face Sheldon. Sheldon jumped. His smile was replaced with a look of fright. “Something funny?” Y/N asked the boy. She was now scolding him, but it was the frightening position the girl was in that really scared him. Her body was facing his sister, whilst her head faced him. He felt as if he were staring into the eyes of an owl that looked like his brother’s girlfriend.

He quickly shook his head. “No. No problem.”

“I don’t think laughing at someone who is trying to apologize is really respectful. I think you both should apologize to each other,” She ordered. The room went silent for a second before the two suddenly began to speak, simultaneously.

“I’m sorry for taking your stupid doll without asking.”

“I’m sorry for laughing at your terrible excuse for an apology.”

Y/N looked between the two in utter shock. How can they both be this bad at apologizing? She shrugged it off as she stood up from her sitting position. “Well, it wasn’t the best, but we’ll get there.  For now, I don’t want to hear any more about this Flash doll-”

“Action figure.”

“Whatever! I don’t want to hear about it anymore, okay? The two nodded and the girl took that as her cue to go. She went back into the living room to see Georgie still watching TV. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

As she approached her spot on the couch, Georgie looked up, finally noticing her. “Hey, you’re back,” Georgie said with a smile. “I kept your seat warm for you.” He patted the spot where she sat, earlier. 

Y/N looked down at the couch cushion in disgust. “Literally or figuratively, because I told you last time that that was gro-”

“Relax. It was figurative. Geez, you do one thing as a joke, and suddenly you’re labeled for life.”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend's dramatics as she joined him on the couch. Georgie looked over at the girl, admiring everything about her. In his mind, he saw Y/N as the prettiest girl in the universe. No one compared to the girl when it came to looks, smarts, and her nurturing personality. 

He wrapped his arm around the girl and pulled her into his chest. “You know, I think you would make an amazing mother one day,” Georgie said, catching Y/N off guard. She lifted her head off of her boyfriend’s chest so that she could look at him.

“Wow! Where did that come from?”

“I’ve seen you with my family, and despite how messed up it is, you manage to wedge yourself into everyone’s heart one way or another. Not to mention the fact that I heard how you handled Sheldon and Missy, just now. That’s something I’ve only seen my mother do and succeed. But in my opinion, you did it best,” Georgie said. Y/N’s heart was racing as watched and listened to Georgie speak about her. Tears brimmed her eyes as she gave the boy a loving smile before giving him a quick kiss.

“Awe, Georgie. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll be an amazing father.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Y/N chuckled. The two pulled each other in super close for a tight hug. Y/N’s head, once again rested on Georgie’s chest. She closed her eyes as she took in the aroma of her boyfriend’s cologne. Georgie placed a kiss on top of her head, wishing that this moment would never end.

When they pulled out of the hug, Y/N moved slightly away from the boy, so that she could get a better look at him. She wore a mischievous smirk as she asked, “When you thought of me as a mother, what did you envision?”

She chuckled as she watched Georgie think for a second. “I saw you… as my wife. And in your arms, we have a son, who you can never put down because he loves his momma so much that if you try to put him down, he screams. And don’t get me started on the sleeping situation.” Y/N laughed, making Georgie smile. She motioned for Georgie to continue. “Okay, well we also have 4 other kids.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide in astonishment. “5 kids? You think of us having 5 kids?” 

“And a dog. Anyways there’s little Joanne, but she goes by “Jo”. She’s a tomboy and a daddy’s girl at the same time. Then there is Tommy. He’s a year older than Jo, and he’s tough. If you mess with his siblings you are in a world of hurt.”

Y/N nodded her head, saying a small “okay,” as she continued to listen. “The oldest two are Fawn and Sam. Their completely different, but the two are always together, which sometimes leads to fighting. That’s where you, the mamma bear come in. You know all your kids, and you know how to easily tame them.”

“I like it,” Y/N chuckled. “Now I don’t know if I can handle 5 kids, but I love your idea of what our family would look like in about 20-30 years.”

“Hold on. You want to wait until we're in our 30’s and 40’s to have kids?”

“Sorta. I mean having all those kids is gonna take time. And how will we support them if we aren’t stable? You can take care of kids all day, but who is gonna provide? Kids are expensive, Georgie. You gotta feed them, clothe them, put them through school, take them to the doctor. You need money for all of those things.”

“And I can do that,” Georgie added. “I’m gonna be the moneymaker. I’ll have a job that pays well, and move us into a nice, big house.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a housewife. I want to have my own job. And why do you get to be the main source of income?” 

“First off, I didn’t say you had to be a housewife. You can have a job, but I want to be the one who gives you everything you want. I want to take care of you and to do that, I work hard, maybe even owning my own company.”

“Businessman. I can somewhat see it.”

“Well, I will be. That’s how we can afford everything because my business is booming,” Georgie assured the girl. Her smile remained on her face, getting wider and wider as they went deeper into their hypothetical future together.

The two continue to talk for a few more minutes as the sound of feet walking across the floor gets closer and closer to them. The sound eventually stops behind Y/N. Georgie looks up and glares at the person who interrupted their moment together. “What now, Sheldon?” Georgie asked with a touch of irritation.

“I’m hungry,” Sheldon spoke. Y/N turned to look at the boy.

Georgie responded to Sheldon, “You’re smart, don’t you know how to make you a sandwich?” Y/N kicked Georgie’s leg, receiving a small “ow” from the older boy.

“Sheldon, your mom went to the store. I’m sure she’ll be back soon and she will start on dinner.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

“Sheldon, if you eat now, then you are gonna spoil your appetite. And you know more than anyone that it takes longer than an hour or two to digest your food, so why don’t you go back in your room, and wait.”

“Okay,” Sheldon sighed as he made his way back to his room.

“See! You just tamed a wild Sheldon, that’s almost impossible.” Y/N rolled her eyes at Georgie’s comment.

“Y/N!” Missy called out walking into the living room. Y/N watched the younger girl walk in with an arm full of dolls. “Y/N, will you play with me? I’m bored, and I have no one to play with.”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed, giving Missy a beaming smile. She moved off the couch. “What? Nooo! Where are you going?” Georgie asked, frowning up at his girlfriend as she moved farther and farther away from him. Missy quickly grabbed Y/N’s hand with her free hand and started pulling her toward her room. Y/N looked back at Georgie and whispered “Sorry,” whilst laughing at Georgie’s expression.

Georgie eventually left the couch and went to his room. He was jealous of the fact that Missy and Sheldon had basically hogged up all their time together. He aggressively flopped on his bed and opened up the magazine he was reading before Y/N came over.

His door was open, in case Y/N got bored of playing dolls with Missy and wanted to join him. So when Mary walked into the house and dropped her keys in the key bowl, Georgie heard it. Y/N must have heard also, because as soon as he heard his mother grunt, probably from bringing in groceries, Y/N rushed out of the room and graciously helped the woman.

Georgie stood from his bed and curiously entered the kitchen. He watched Mary and Y/N laugh as they walked back into the house with the groceries. “I must admit Y/N since Georgie has started seeing you, he’s been different.” Y/N looked up at the woman with a frown. “No! Not in a bad way. He’s kinder and a bit more respectful. And look at this house! Usually, I come home and there is something that needs cleaning up, and today, it’s just as I left it.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Cooper. We did have some issues, but it was quickly resolved and the peace was restored.”

“Oh, you don’t have to think of me. You did an excellent job. I hope one day I get to call you my daughter-in-law.”

“Awe. Stop Mrs. Copper. You’re gonna make me cry,” She said, fanning her bright red face. Georgie saw the tears lining her eyes from where he stood.

The front door opened, revealing George walking into the house in his work clothes. He saw Georgie standing in the kitchen watching his mother and girlfriend interact. “What are you doing?” He asked his son as he approached.

“Mom and Y/N are… bonding? I don’t actually know what’s happening,” Georgie said with a shrug of his shoulders.

George chuckled and clapped his hand against his son’s back. “From me to you, good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that, George was gone, leaving a confused Georgie alone with his thoughts.

Taglist: @buckysmainhxe , @esposadomd , @natalia12700, @siriusstwelveyears , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @countrymusiclover , @bellarkeselection , @alexxavicry , @xivilivix, @idontknowwhat2type , @ietss

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[floralcyanide]

― 𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 (𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲)

request: car sex with carmy you and Carmy come back together, physically and romantically.

↝ pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), car sex, semi-public sex, nipple play, mentions of alcohol, drinking, smoking, past relationship, exes to lovers, language

↝ word count: ~2.8k

↝ author's note: I finally got the urge to write and actually put forth the effort to write, and I think this is my best fic in a while lol. I hope ya'll enjoy this, I enjoyed writing it.

based on Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) by Deftones

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

“This town don’t feel mine. I’m fast to get away.”

Carmy usually despises parties.

But Claire begged Carmy to join her at her best friend’s party, and of course, he said yes. He’d do anything for Claire, really. Even if it meant he had to deal with people from high school who definitely didn’t remember him, loud music, and rowdy drunkards- it didn’t really matter whether Carmy cared or not. He’d even do something like this for you, even though you also weren’t a major fan of parties. But Carmy tries not to think about you right now. It’s one major reason why he was with Claire to begin with. He couldn’t have you. It’s silly, Carmy thinks, and also kind of fucked, but he was tired of being lonely all the time. 

Carmy stands in the corner, nursing a cup of beer that he’s barely drunk and doesn’t plan on finishing, watching as Claire comforts her best friend on the couch. A few people wave or smile at him, and he returns the favor, but he isn’t really into the gathering like everyone else. If Carmy is honest, he’d rather be at home right now. Claire’s best friend hurriedly gets up to take a phone call- probably from her ex- much to Claire’s dismay. But she doesn’t have a moment to get up to go after her or even sit back down on the couch fully before a random guy approaches her. Carmy furrows his eyebrows, watching the conversation carefully and with close attention. It’s the only interesting thing that has happened at this party so far. 

A few moments pass without anything remotely going on between Claire and the rando. She hasn’t even so much as glanced back at Carmy, who is watching the two of them like a hawk. Claire seems to know who this person is, so she doesn’t shy away. The guy leans in to whisper something in her ear, and she laughs, but he doesn’t pull away from her. In fact, he lingers and presses a kiss to the spot behind her ear. Claire doesn’t seem to be negatively phased by it either, and Carmy feels ice in his bones. So much for trying something with Claire after all these years. Perhaps she knew Carmy's true intentions. But still, he can’t ignore the sting of hurt he feels in his chest. No matter how much he tries to down the disgusting beer in an attempt to numb himself fully, to no avail. He even wanders to the kitchen, where the harder stuff is, pouring something clear and strong into the red solo cup he had, right to the brim. Carmy chugs it with a wince before going outside for a smoke. It seems to have worked a little to calm his racing thoughts. He’s seated on the stoop, fishing out his pack of cigarettes, when a memory of you crosses his mind. A memory of you kissing him behind his ear just like that guy kissed Claire. 

You. Carmy inhales deeply, allowing a ribbon of smoke to escape his lips as he tries to push his hurt and anger aside. He pulls out his phone.

Can you do me a favor?

He stares at the screen, waiting for you to reply to his text. It’s quite late now, but Carmy knows you’ll likely be awake. 

What’s up?

Carmy’s heart picks up at your fast response.

Can you come get me from this address? I’ll explain when you get here.

Carmy can already see the confused look you’re going to give him when you pull up to the house to see a party going on, and him be there. But stranger things have happened. Things like you and Carmy almost working out at one time. 

Sure. See you in a few.

Carmy had left for New York City, ultimately leaving you behind in Chicago. It had hurt him to do that to you, but it was for the best at the time. You took it hard but knew Carmy had to leave the city. So, you moved on. But no other person you had dated or tried dating was like Carmy. You looked for him in every person, every dish, every place you’d go. Whether it was the park or the grocery store, you found yourself subconsciously searching for Carmy there. Until one day, you found him. It wasn’t long after the news broke that Michael had passed. You still frequented The Beef quite often, as you had grown up with the Berzattos throughout school and remained friends with them in adulthood. You walked in and saw Carmy floundering in the back, yelling out orders and looking like the embodiment of stress. He had stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted you in the doorway. You reconnected with a cup of coffee, caught up, and, after a few months of casual texting, are now okay friends. It’s described as okay because, well, you wish it were more. But you have restrained yourself from talking about relationship stuff with Carmy, and he has taken that as you not being interested. Which isn’t true, but he doesn’t know that. He has always thought you were too good for him, anyway.

Carmy is finishing up the cigarette when you pull up. Claire has yet to make an appearance, and Carmy figures she’s busy with that guy. How disappointing. He puts out the cigarette with his foot as he stands up on the stoop, jogging over to your passenger side door. You give him a funny look as Carmy opens the door, just as he had expected you to. He sighs without a word- he’ll explain later.

“Any place in particular you wanna go?” you ask, automatically assuming it’s best not to ask questions right now based on Carmy’s mood.

“I don’t care where, just far.”

You end up driving to the outskirts of the city to some abandoned parking lot, tucked away behind a large building. It’s pretty private and dark despite a few straggling streetlamps.

“Care to explain why you were at a party of all places?” you ask, finally breaking the nearly hour-long silence, looking over at Carmy as you unbuckle your seatbelt and face him fully.

Carmy laughs humorlessly, rubbing the back of his neck, “The girl I’m- the girl I was seeing- her best friend threw it. I agreed to go to, you know, lift spirits. But the girl kinda got with someone else. So, I decided to leave.”

Carmy absolutely was not going to tell you it was Claire that he was with. In response, you nod slowly, swallowing the ball of awkwardness in your throat. Carmy has a girlfriend? And didn’t tell you? Or rather, had a girlfriend and didn’t tell you? You aren’t sure how to feel about that. You shrug it off.

“That sucks, Carm. I’m sorry.”

Carmy waves a dismissive hand, “It’s whatever. I didn’t really like her that much anyway. I was just trying to uh.” he trails off.

“Trying to what?” you ask, encouraging Carmy to continue.

Carmy fumbles his words, unsure of what to say here, but decides to just tell you. The worst thing you could do is laugh at him, and Carmy knew you wouldn’t do that.

“I was trying to get over you. I’m still not over you.”

You freeze, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I figured you’re over me, and why bother with old stuff, you know?” Carmy shrugs.

“Who said I was over you?”

Carmy’s head snaps up so he can look at you for the first time in over an hour, “What?”

“I’m not over you, Carmy. It’s been a while, but I’ve never gotten past what we had.”

“Oh,” Carmy sniffs.

And here he assumed he couldn’t have you this whole time.

“Yeah,” you run your palms over the steering wheel, now looking ahead, “Looks like we just never moved on, huh?”

“I guess not,” the edge of Carmy’s lips curl into a smile as he plays with his tattooed fingers nervously, “What should we do about that?”

You glance over at Carmy before averting your gaze to the streetlamp ahead, “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Hey,” Carmy whispers, leaning over the console, “Look at me.”

You let your hands fall into your lap before looking over at Carmy, your eyes meeting. You notice how close he’s leaning in. You feel yourself burn from your ears to your chest in embarrassment and want. You’re embarrassed because you’re in your car under Carmy’s thick gaze, but you’re heavy with that feeling of desire. You want him so bad it physically hurts.

“I can think of a few things we could do about it.”

You hum, “Like what?”

Carmy looks around briefly before realizing there’s no one around for a while. He unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs into the backseat, “Come back here, and you’ll find out.”

You swallow a laugh at his brazenness but follow him anyway. You clamber onto his lap, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands pressed to his taut, clothed chest. As you look into Carmy’s eyes again, all your nervousness melts away. A grin finds its way onto your face as the laugh you swallowed earlier bubbles up your throat. Suddenly, you can’t stop laughing. You feel like a kid again.

“What’s so funny?” Carmy asks, your contagious laugh making him also chuckle a little.

“Nothing, it’s just,” you look out of the windows, making sure the coast is clear, “I never thought I’d fuck in the back of my car.”

“Who said we were fucking?” Carmy deadpans, and you are sharply taken aback.

Then, Carmy is the one to start laughing this time, and you roll your eyes, smacking him on his chest, “That wasn’t funny.”

Carmy grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, “Is this too high school for you? Cause we can drive an hour back to my place if you need.”

“No,” you huff, “I don’t care where we are, Carm. I just thought it was an interesting place to have sex, is all. At an uh-” you glance behind you at the nearby dumpster, “At a paper plant, especially.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Carmy shakes his head at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Yes, chef,” you chuckle, grabbing both sides of his face and pressing your lips to his gently.

Carmy cradles you with his large hands, his fingers splayed out against your back as he pulls you closer. He moves his attention from your lips to your jaw, where he leaves a trail of kisses along where your neck connects to your ear. In the same spot that you had kissed him all those years before. Carmy smiles against your skin. He travels further down your neck, tugging at the hem of your t-shirt, which you pull off and toss into the front seat behind you. Carmy leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest as his hands wander along your naked sides, gripping the fat of your hips through your sweatpants. You sigh in contentment before moving to remove Carmy’s shirt as well. He peels it off his body and over his head in a swift motion, letting it fall behind you somewhere up front. You admire Carmy’s fit body before leaning forward to capture him in another passionate kiss, your hands fumbling to unfasten his jeans. You lift yourself off his lap for him to shove his pants and underwear down his thighs far enough for his legs to comfortably spread slightly. While hovering over Carmy’s lap, you take the opportunity to pull down your own garments, kicking them off on the floorboards. Carmy discards your bra too, while he’s at it. And now you’re completely naked and vulnerable in the backseat of your car. 

You grasp Carmy’s hard length in your hand, swirling the precum around his tip with your thumb. Carmy reaches a hand underneath you, softly testing how wet you are. He smirks when he finds you’re fairly turned on already just from kissing.

“What can I say? I missed you,” you tease.

“Did you miss my fingers, too?” Carmy asks as he delves one into your entrance.

“Yes,” you breathe out, squeezing Carmy in your hand.

Carmy groans at the feeling of you slowly jerking him as he hooks his finger inside you. He adds another pretty quickly, considering how welcoming your cunt is for him. Carmy maintains eye contact with you. His normally icy blues are now like a dark ocean. You pull Carmy’s fingers out from you, replacing them with the tip of his length. 

“Fuck,” he shudders as you push yourself onto him inch by inch, your cunt all but sucking him in graciously.

With a few rocks of your hips and Carmy’s slow guidance, you manage to seat yourself fully, your thighs now flush against his hips. Carmy traces the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb before letting you take it into his mouth. You suck on it, gathering as much spit as you could muster. Carmy removes it from your mouth and then places it on your clit, where he rubs slow circles as you begin to move your hips. You feel him drag against your walls as you move up nearly off his cock, only to drop yourself back down in a swift motion. You cry out in pleasure, and Carmy groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your hip harshly. You gain a nice pace, bouncing on his length as he meets you in the middle with his thrusts. Carmy speeds up his assault on your clit, his eyes either focusing on yours or your breasts bouncing in his face. He switches it up every few minutes.

“It feels so good to have you back inside me, Carm,” you bite your lip, grasping his shoulders for leverage as you start fucking him even faster.

“Glad to hear it,” Carmy jokes, his voice nearly failing him as your walls clench around him.

He bucks his hips into you a little faster, trying to keep up with you. At this point, your arousal is seeping down your thighs and onto Carmy’s. You hope it doesn’t make its way to our seats, but also, you feel too good to even care. Carmy moves his hand from your hip to grasp your breast, tweaking your already attentive nipple. You hiss at the sensation, rolling your hips in a new pattern, Carmy hitting the perfect spot inside you now. That familiar feeling of warm tightness is forming in your lower belly as your thighs burn from exertion. Carmy feels you growing tighter around him, and he rubs figure eights into your clit, causing you to yelp. You’re now gasping for air as you lose yourself in the feeling of pleasure. Carmy lets go of your breast to hold you down on his lap so he can fuck up into you, your orgasm now teetering on the edge. He hits that spot again, sending you into a wave of bliss. You cum hard around Carmy, the gripping of your cunt crashes him into his own orgasm.

You let out a string of incoherent curses as you ride it out, pleasure rolling throughout your body. You collapse into Carmy’s chest, and he weakly runs his fingers through your hair. You both catch your breath, and you finally pull off of Carmy slowly. Pulling one of the backseats down, you search for a towel or extra hoodie you have in your trunk to clean up with. Finally, an old hoodie of Carmy’s, oddly enough, appears from under the spare tire. You snatch it and wipe up the two of you, and Carmy, of course, has to make a comment about the garment.

“Just be grateful I had it. It can always be washed,” you snort, getting redressed.

The windows are all fogged up now, you realize. So, you climb back into the front seat and turn on the heat. It’s cool outside now, making the inside of the car a little cold now that you’ve come to your senses, and the warmth is welcoming. Carmy gets back into the passenger side after getting his pants pulled back up, taking his shirt from the seat and pulling it over his head. After you both get adjusted and buckled back in, you burst into laughter.

“Some party, huh?” you joke, and Carmy rolls his eyes.

“That dumbass party is the reason we’re here now, so I’d take it as a win.”

“I hate parties.”

“I know you do.”

You both share a longing look before you put the car in gear, “Now, where to?”

[marvelfanfics1]

hiii! idk if you’re requests are open but I was wondering if you could do a daddy wade x little girl reader (i can already hear him call her peanut!)where she skins her knee playing but tries to hide it from him and when he finds out she tells him she wanted to regenerate like her daddy🥹

Just like you

Pairing: daddy!wade x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, fluff, hurt knee, tiny mention of blood, comfort

As a little with a mercenary as a caregiver who's often gone during the day you know how to keep yourself entertained without getting bored, sometimes watching too much cartoons than you were allowed but other than that you were a good peanut.

Another day with Wade being gone and about to earn some money, with the promise to be there for movie night, you were busy playing to make the time go faster.

Looking through your toy chest you pull out a cape, giggling in delight you quickly fasten it around your neck. You also grab two stuffies to play with, rushing to the living room.

Wade was a hero in your eyes, obviously. He doesn't exactly tells you what happens exactly during his jobs, just snippets and not any gory details for obvious reasons, but nonetheless he's your hero. That's why you love to pretend you are a hero yourself.

As you keep playing that you're rescuing your hostage stuffed bunny from a cat you run around the living room, jumping up and down the couch you lose your balance and fall knees first onto the hardwood floor with a yelp.

You sit on the floor, pouting at your now bloody knees and hesitantly touch one and wince at the sting. "Owie..."

But you don't start crying. Your daddy doesn't cry either, he sucks it up and keeps going with the knowledge that he will regenerate in no time. So, with a huff you get up and continue playing as if nothing happened.

A while later you are sitting on the couch watching a cartoon as you hear the front door unlocking and Wade steps inside, still wearing his suit and carries a bag of takeaway.

"Daddy's home!" He loudly announces himself. "That'll never get old." He walks over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living area to set down the bag and takes off his mask as well.

The second his hands are free you quickly get up and run into his awaiting arms. "Missed you daddy."

He smiles, picking you up by your thighs and kisses the tip of your nose. "I missed you too, peanut. Bet you had more fun than me. You didn't start our movie night without me, did you?"

"Nooo, I could neva! Waited jus' for you." You giggle, eyeing the bag of food your stomach growls. "What's this?"

"I got your favorite takeout." He says, chuckling at the way you're almost drooling at the sight. "Get settled on the couch and I'll be there in a minute, 'kay?"

You nod enthusiastically, rushing back to your previous spot when Wade set you back on the ground.

Soon enough he got changed into something comfortable and you both are eating your dinner on the couch while he tells you about today's job, making sure it's appropriate for your current headspace.

When you finish eating and Wade has put on the movie you got to choose this week you get more comfortable.

Wade sits back down next to you, grabbing a fluffy blanket to cover you both but stops when he gets a glimpse of your knees. "Peanut, what's this?"

"Huh? Oh, that happened when I was playing hero. S'okay, jus' hurts a little!" You shrug it off with a smile.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He sighs.

"Wanted to be like you daddy." You mumble, looking down at your hands.

His eyes soften at that, a small smile replacing his frown. "Like me?"

"Mhm, wanted to regenerate like you 'cause is so cool!"

"Oh peanut, you're too sweet for this world. Wait here, I'll be right back."

Sure enough he comes back with a pack of hello kitty bandaids, kneeling down beside the couch and quickly unwrapping two of them, placing them carefully on your knees. "There, all patched up. You're still just like me, y'know? You just need a little longer to regenerate than me and that's okay."

"Really?" You ask a little uncertainty, tilting your head.

"Oh, hell yeah. You're just as cool as me and that means we deserve this." He pulls out two lollipops and you squeal, instantly reaching out for it. "Let me unwrap it first."

He settles back down next to you, letting you snuggle into his side before taking the wrapping off and handing you your treat.

He wraps an arm around you, kissing your head. "You'll always be my cool peanut."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ✧˖°

Taglist

@chimindity

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Marvel only:

@aagn360

[ssahotchnerr]

i just had a thought for little ellie!! 🥺 imagine her not being allowed chocolates because she was given enough of it already so you and aaron hid the chocolates BUTT ellie found them!! 🤭💗 since she found the chocolates, she can't help but to eat them right away!! and after a while, you and aaron are like, "why's ellie quiet?" 🧐🤨 and then you and aaron found her in a mess, just eating chocolates and having the most adorable expression when she got caught 🥺🥺 she'd probably even have the biggest puppy dog eyes too just so she can get away with it especially since aaron has a soft spot for her 🥺💗

😭😭🤭🥹 AHHHHH

ellie made a bit of a fuss when the two of you had cut her off too 😭 she wanted more but you were all, "you'll spoil your dinner🫵🏻" and then aaron added, "you'll get a tummy ache🤨" so it's put away, situation resolved. but then you're off doing your own thing, as is aaron, and ellie's veryyyy quiet considering she had just thrown a minor tantrum. plus she loves just being your and aaron's shadow, following you around/wanting to be in the same room, so both things considered - it's especially suspicious.

first you check to see if she's with aaron - you find him in his office and ask if ellie's with him, he answers, "no. is she with you?" to which you shake your head. the two of you immediately know she's probably up to no good and go searching for her 😭

you find her back in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with the chocolates in hand 😭 you're both taken aback like, how in the world did you manage to find that??????

ellie looks up all innocently with her big eyes, smudgy chocolate stains around her mouth and hands 😭😭😭😭 she knows she's in trouble, but she also knows she has her daddy wrapped around her little finger 🤭 she really plays up her cuteness, so getting in trouble mayyy be avoided??

but it's not 😭 as much as the two of you (aaron mainly) hate scolding her, it's getting to a point where she can't get away with everything. aaron has to try really hard not to let his face soften and produce a smile, but rather he crosses his arms and asks, "eleanor, what do you think you're doing🤨" he has to bring out the full name for this 😭

so she's put in time-out for a bit, and you and aaron laugh about it in secret 😭🙄🥰 it's not funny that she disobeyed, but the whole scenario is. you do take a picture of her all messy for the memories - and to show the team of course 🫶🏻

but now you also know that if you have to take something from her, to really put it out of her reach 😭😭💓 also, ellie does end up getting a stomach ache and barely touches her dinner that night LOL😭 lesson learned

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Fifteen - Olivia's Better Birthday

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Daniels backyard was transformed. It was every little girls dream. There was a huge banner tied to the fence which read 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY BADGER' in big bubbly letters.

Daniel had everything. There were two ponies in the corner, giving kids rides across the garden. There was a bouncy castle, a ball pit, one of those inflatable slides, every kind of food you could imagine and balloons everywhere.

"Wow," Y/N gasped as she put Milo on the floor. He immediately took off, running towards Olivia.

"You made it!" Called Daniel as he strode towards her, arms out stretched.

She fell into them. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said as Daniel squeezed her.

"Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the house. Y/N looked around for Milo as she allowed herself to be pulled along, but he was too busy playing with Olivia.

Daniel pulled her into the kitchen. On top of the kitchen counter was a wide yet not very tall box. Unable to keep the grin from his face, Daniel pulled open the box, revealing Olivia's birthday cake. "Holy shit," she couldn't stop herself from whispering as she looked at the cake.

It was a Red Bull F1 car, that much was clear. It had the normal sponsors and a red number six on it. Smaller sponsors were things like Olivia's name and 'Olivia's sixth birthday' in small, golden writing. Inside of the F1 car, in the drivers seat, was a badger.

Y/N looked at Daniel. "She's gonna love it," she said as he placed the lid back onto the box, keeping it safe.

"This might be my proudest moment as a dad," he said and walked with her back out to the garden. "Now that you guys are here, we can actually start," he said as he opened the door for her.

"You waited for us?" She asked, unable to stop smiling. "You really didn't have to."

"Oh, I did," Daniel said. He led her to the other adults in the garden and abandoned her to go and stand in front of everybody. He clapped his hands and most eyes turned to him. "Hi everybody," Daniel called, his voice booming across the garden. "Thank you all for coming to Olivia's birthday party. We have games and pony rides and feel free to help yourselves to drinks. Parents we have drinks in the kitchen," he said and stepped away.

He made his way back over to the parents and joined Y/N at her side. "Can I get you something to drink?" He offered her.

"Danny, I need to drive Milo and I home," she said as he placed his arms around her.

But he shook his head. "Stay here with me," he said. "Milo and Olivia can have a sleepover and you and I can have a sleepover," he said quietly.

That was just a little too tempting. "One, just one," she said to him and Daniel disappeared back into the house.

Y/N looked around at the other parents and adults. Most of them she recognised from the daycare car park, some of them she recognised as Daniel's friend. "Hey!" Somebody called as they walked towards her. "Y/N, right?"

It took her a moment to recognise who was talking to her. "Hey Max!" She called as they greeted each other with a friendly, welcoming hug. "How have you been?"

When Daniel came out of the kitchen with drinks for him and Y/N in hand, she was talking to Max, who was introducing her to those she hadn't met yet. Almost all of the grid was there, introducing themselves and chatting animatedly. The only one missing was Charles, but Olivia was forcing him down the slide with her.

Lando spotted Daniel. He grinned at him and Y/N turned around. "Thank you, Danny," she said and took the drink from him. Daniel immediately put his arms over her shoulders pulling her into him as they continued to chat with his friends.

The other drivers smirked at each other. They already looked like a couple, and they all knew it wouldn't be long until were one.

A few hours into the party, it was time to bring out the cake. Max held Olivia on his hip as Daniel brought out the cake. "Uncle Max it looks like your car!" She called while everybody sang happy birthday to her.

She blew out the candles on the cake and a few of the drivers, including Daniel, formed an assembly line to get a piece of cake to everybody. Whatever was left over went into party bags, with Daniel leaving a wheel aside.

Music played and the kids danced around. Parents still stood and chatted, but Y/N and Daniel were behind them, gently swaying. Nobody could see them, they thought. But they wouldn't have cared if they could.

"Olivia made this playlist," Daniel said, Y/N tucked against his chest as a song from a disney movie came to an end. "She pretty much planned this entire party."

She looked up, not moving her head from his chest. "She's done brilliantly," she said as she looked around. It really was a spectacular party. She only wished she could give Milo something this grand.

Suddenly, a Taylor Swift song began playing. Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she looked up at a grinning Daniel. "This one isn't Olivia's music, is it?"

Daniel couldn't stop himself from laughing as he and Y/N began moving faster. "I'm a swifty," he confessed and Y/N just laughed with him.

"So, if I was in a room with Taylor, who are you choosing?" She asked, but the grin on her face showed she wasn't serious.

Daniel grabbed a hold of her chin and tipped her face towards his. "You every time," he said and kissed her.

After the cake the party was only an hour longer. He passed party bags out to parents as they grabbed their kids and started making their way out.

Y/N began clearing things up as Daniel said goodbye to everyone. He took a little bit longer saying goodbye to his fellow drivers, who wanted a moment to ask about Y/N. But he waved them off, wanting them to leave so he could have time with her.

As the slide, bouncy castle and ball pit were packed up, the ponies were put back into the trailer. Before the owner put them away, he gave Milo and Olivia a treat each to give to the horses. They were squealing as they walked away.

Once she had picked up as much rubbish as she could, Y/N started salvaging what food was leftover. She brought it into the kitchen as Daniel brought Milo and Olivia inside.

As soon as the party was cleaned up Y/N and Daniel worked on getting the kids ready for bed. Milo wore the clothes he had from the last time he had slept over. Olivia still wore her birthday crown once she was ready for bed.

But they didn't go to bed right away. Putting a few snacks from the party into a bowl, Y/N and Daniel sat with in the living room with the kids. Olivia and Milo shared the food, eyes fixed on the television, as Y/N cuddled up to Daniel.

"Today was amazing," she whispered as she laid against his chest. "You're a brilliant dad."

Daniel kissed the top of her head.

As soon as the movie was finished, they got the kids up to bed. Y/N kissed the top of Milo's head and tucked him in. He and Olivia were exhausted after the party. They were so happy, but so exhausted. "Momma," Milo said through a yawn. "Do you think I can have a party like Olivia's?"

Y/N stroked through Milo's hair. "I'll try, Munchkin," she whispered. They said a final good night and Y/N walked out of the room, leaving him to get some sleep.

She showered and got changed into the oversized shirt Daniel had provided for her. When she was done she returned to Daniels bedroom, where he was already ready for bed. She grinned as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "We haven't even had our third date yet. Are you sure this is appropriate?"

Daniel pretended to think about it. His hand was on her arm, finding any excuse to touch her. "Want to debate it over cake?"

That was how they found themselves in the kitchen, once again sat on the floor as they shared the circular piece of cake between them. "It's a soft tyre," Daniel explained as Y/N dug her fork into the black fondant. "You can tell by the red on it," he said.

Y/N licked her fork. "So what does a soft tyre mean?" She asked, and Daniel was only too happy to explain.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[michealdontleavemeher3]

hi! i was wondering if you could do a marvel/avengers x reader? where reader came from kind of a bad background and has to kinda learn that eating and doing things is normal and that they dont need to ask for permission. And the avengers realise after watching reader that they actually come from a bad background and tries to reassure that their safe? is that too complicated? SO SORRY IF IT IS. it would be really cool if you just do anything Marvel tho!! BUT OBVIOUSLY NO PRESSURE or anything. Thank you for listening and sorry if you dont understand what i said

Sorry that it took so long😿 but here it is

(also I'm so sorry the other requests are taking so long, I'm kind of busy but I try to write as much as I can when I have time)

Save haven

The Avengers Compound was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It was a fortress of safety, filled with cutting-edge technology and people who were hero's. For someone like you, who had spent years on the streets and in rough situations, it was unreal

You had been given a room of your own. The bed was massive, soft, and the blankets were warm. But even so, you often slept on top of the covers, not wanting to disturb the neatly made bed. You woke up early every morning, creeping out of your room to explore the compound, careful not to make any noise.

The kitchen was the first place you visited, It was always well-stocked, with a variety of foods you hadn’t seen in years. But instead of taking what you wanted, you’d wait until someone else entered, watching them prepare their meal before hesitantly asking if it was okay for you to eat too.

One morning, you lingered by the fridge, your stomach rumbling softly. Tony Stark walked in, still half-asleep, and went straight for the coffee machine. He glanced at you, noticing how you stood there, hands clasped together, your eyes darting between the food and him.

“Morning, kid,” Tony greeted, yawning. “Help yourself. You don’t need to ask.”

You smiled weakly but didn’t move, waiting until he had taken his coffee and left the kitchen before you finally grabbed a small yogurt. You ate it quickly, standing by the counter, before hurrying out to avoid being seen by anyone else.

It wasn’t just in the kitchen. Throughout the day, you found yourself unsure of what you were allowed to do. You asked permission to use the bathroom, take a shower, even to sit down in the common areas. You tried your best to stay out of the way, not wanting to be a burden.

The Avengers started to notice your behavior, though it took some time for them to piece together the full picture. At first, they chalked it up to nerves—after all, you were new, and living with superheroes could be intimidating. But as the days turned into weeks, they began to see that it was more than just nerves.

One afternoon, while everyone was gathered in the common room, you were perched on the edge of an armchair, looking uncomfortable. Natasha was sitting nearby, watching you with quiet concern. She noticed how you stiffened every time someone raised their voice, even in laughter. She saw how you glanced around, seemingly searching for cues on how to act.

When Steve offered you a spot on the couch next to him, you hesitated, eyes wide, as if unsure if you were really allowed. “It’s okay,” he assured you, patting the cushion. “You can sit here.”

You nodded and carefully sat down, but even then, you kept your hands folded in your lap, as if afraid to touch anything. Natasha exchanged a look with Steve, who gave a small, understanding nod.

Later that night, Natasha found you alone in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. You were scrubbing the counters diligently, even though the staff usually took care of it.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, not wanting to startle you. “You don’t have to do that. We have people who handle the cleaning.”

You paused, turning to face her. “I just… wanted to help. I didn’t want to be useless.”

Natasha’s heart ached at your words. She approached you slowly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re not useless. You’re part of this team now. You don’t have to earn your place by doing chores or asking for permission. You belong here.”

You looked down, feeling a lump in your throat. “It’s hard to believe that sometimes,” you admitted. “Where I came from, I had to ask for everything. If I didn’t, I’d get in trouble.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she guided you to sit down at the kitchen table. “You don’t have to live like that anymore. This is your home now. No one here will hurt you or punish you. You’re safe.”

As she spoke, Steve walked in, having overheard the last part of the conversation. He pulled up a chair and sat down across from you. “We’re your family now,” he said, his voice kind and sincere. “We’re here for you, no matter what. You don’t need to be afraid or ask for permission to be yourself.”

You felt tears welling up, but this time, you didn’t try to hide them. Natasha squeezed your hand, offering silent support, while Steve gave you a reassuring smile. It was the first time in a long while that you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could trust this place—these people.

The next morning, when you entered the kitchen, you saw Tony pouring himself a cup of coffee again. This time, you didn’t wait for permission. You grabbed a bowl, filled it with cereal, and sat down at the table. Tony noticed, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you take this small, but significant, step.

“Good to see you helping yourself, kid,” Tony remarked casually, taking a seat across from you.

You offered him a shy smile. “I’m trying.”

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself slowly adjusting to life in the compound. Clint would invite you to join him in watching movies, and you began to relax, realizing you didn’t have to wait for an invitation. Wanda started baking with you in the afternoons, teaching you recipes from her childhood, and you felt the joy of doing something just because you wanted to.

The others continued to reassure you in small ways. Steve always made a point to include you in conversations, never letting you feel like an outsider. Thor would leave small treats for you, gifts from his trips off-world, just to see you smile. Bruce offered quiet companionship in the lab, never pressuring you to talk, but always there if you needed someone.

One evening, after a particularly fun movie night with Clint and Sam, you found yourself laughing freely for the first time in ages. The laughter felt foreign, but good, like a weight had been lifted from your chest. You looked around at the team, realizing that you were truly beginning to feel like you belonged.

As everyone said their goodnights and headed to their rooms, Natasha caught your eye. She gave you a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of how far you had come.

“You did good, (Y/N),” she said, her voice soft and full of pride. “You’re doing great.”

You smiled, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Nat. I think I’m starting to believe that I really am safe here.”

She squeezed your shoulder gently before heading off to bed. Alone in the common room, you took a moment to appreciate the warmth and comfort that now surrounded you. It had been a long journey to get here, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were truly home.

And in that moment, you knew that this place—this team—was your safe haven.

[bellamer]

Baldur’s Gate 3 Characters I think you can take to a black thanksgiving

Astarion: Definitely not. I will not elaborate. His mouth is way too fresh, he’ll get his ass beat. Like at first I was like “He’d probably be gossiping with the aunties” but I don’t think he’d last that long. Don’t bring him anywhere.

Lae’Zel: Definitely not, see Astarion’s reason why and apply it to her, she’ll get jumped.

Shadowheart: I feel like it would be safe to bring her but she really wouldn’t socialize. She’d probably stay next to whoever brought her the entire time, introduce herself, but she’d still be off in the corner with her plate. Might say something out of pocket so watch her but she’s still sorta safe

Gale: A safe option. He’s polite and he’ll help where he can but keep him out of the kitchen because he’d make unwarranted suggestions like “May I suggest less salt ? And less pork in the vegetable dishes ?” and would get glared at by all the older women in the kitchen and would probably get cursed out so you have to tell him to shut up and just go do something else away from the kitchen.

Karlach: A safe option. She’d get along with the rowdy cousins, and would love playing games with everyone and dancing to music but her favorite parts would be going on “walks” and then devouring the food. Definitely the type to leave with 15 to go plates and will eat her leftovers way into January.

Wyll: One of the safest options there is. Not because he’s black, but he knows how to behave and he’s polite. Grandma is definitely asking to bring him back for Christmas and New Years. Would be popular with the little cousins because he has a soft spot for kids and wouldn’t mind playing with them or watching the thanksgiving parade with them, helps sets the the table, helps put the food away. He’s a good one to bring and he’d be welcome to return next year, and would be welcome to attend other functions.

Halsin: “You are freaking African Americans… plus Halsin. Which, I’m rocking with Halsin cuz Halsin’s rocking with us” basically all the reasons why Wyll is allowed to the thanksgiving is the same reason why Halsin is allowed. The thing that won him a permanent seat at the table however is when he was invited to go on a “walk” and he shared his personal stash with everyone happily, and he rolled perfectly too. He’s invited to all the functions.

So in conclusion:

Who’s not allowed: Astarion and Lae’Zel

Who would be allowed to attend but will still get side eyed at some point for out of pocket comments: Gale and Shadowheart

Who’s invited back with open arms: Karlach, Wyll, Halsin

[redroomreflections]

Well Worth The Wait

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Summary : R and Nat have a night alone - based on The Loud House couple that can be found on A03

Note: These are reuploads.

18+ Minors DNI (it's smut)

w/c: 4k

The door slowly opened to reveal the scene beyond. In the living room of Natasha’s suite were candles lit up in various spots. Some are taller than others, and some brighter than others. Rose petals lined a trail to the middle of the room where there was a picnic-like setting waiting for you. A champagne bottle sitting on ice. It all added to the ambiance of the room. You stepped further inside, and Natasha’s footsteps could be heard behind you through the clacking of her heels against the floor. She reaches for your hand when she realized you’ve stopped.

“I guess Sam does know how to decorate,” You comment as you find a fully decorated table for dinner. This evening had been planned for weeks. A night at the Compound. A date for just the two of you to reconnect and talk with each other. Here you had total privacy. Soundproof walls, nice air conditioning, and a fully stocked fridge. No kids running around. No phones. No work emails. A luxurious night if you do say so yourself. Natasha’s suite in the Compound is huge. It's kind of romantic if you think about it. Every time you’re here you remember the nights you spent together before marriage. The times you promised each other the world. Crazy how things turn out.

“Sam said dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Natasha tilts her chin towards the kitchen where you can smell the fragrance of whatever is cooking wafting through the air. “For now how about drinks?” She suggests and you nod. You watch as Natasha struts into the kitchen. You decide to stay behind and explore a bit more. There’s a blanket right in front of the fireplace. Sam’s doing? Along with a red box that you’re sure you’re not supposed to touch. Curiosity gets the best of you and you walk over to shake it. Could this be the gift? You know the one. Natasha promised to give it to you the night of Christmas but Paige broke a fever so you rainchecked. Then Charlie got sick too. Then the rest of the house. Next thing you knew it was time for work again. Weeks went by and you never got around to opening your gift. That doesn’t mean you forgot about it. Natasha mentioned it once or twice in passing. She knew how to keep you wanting more. Which is why you’re so excited to open it. Your fingertips trace across the red ribbon, pinching close together to rip it open when you hear Natasha’s footsteps once again.

You pretend as if you weren’t going to touch anything and instead walk over to the double doors of the suite. There’s a balcony here. It overlooks the beautiful forest of upstate NY. You reminisce on the nights you would sit here with your laptop and phone. You’d work and work some more until Natasha was done with her Avenging duties. When she finally arrived home she would come and sit in your lap, give you a big kiss, and fall asleep in your arms. It’s amazing how so much of your life has changed. In a way, the suite was your first apartment together, and now you have a home with your littles.

“What are you thinking about?” Natasha asks as you turn to her. She passes you a full tumbler before taking a sip of her own drink.

“You,” You swirl the liquid around in the cup, watching the ice ding against the edge, before taking a drink. Screwdriver. Vodka and orange juice. Not a bad drink though you think Natasha mixed it for your benefit. “Us.”

“A lot to think about then,” Natasha lowers her drink. She follows your line of sight to the infinity pool directly below you. Many nights she’d watch you swim. You were always so graceful.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” You glance over at her. “When you think about the beginning and everything we went through. You and Me. Did you ever think we’d have this?”

“I did,” Natasha shrugs. “When I allowed myself to. I’ve only ever wanted it. This. With you.” She confirms. In the beginning, your relationship with Natasha wasn’t easy. It was rough and heartbreaking, and pain-inducing all at once. It was also fun, and exhilarating, and everything you dreamed of all rolled into one. In the distance, there’s a timer that goes off. Dinner is ready. You follow Natasha into the kitchen. She sets her glass down on the counter in exchange for oven mitts. She takes out the pan of lasagna. “There’s a salad in the fridge. It’s fresh. Can you pull that out?” She asks and you quickly get to work. You spruce it up, making sure it's to your liking before you both carry everything into the living room.

It’s there you sit across from each other. Natasha is wearing a dress and so she opts to have a pillow sitting in her lap.

“For modesty,” She said even though you’ve seen everything she has to offer. Not that you mind seeing it again. In fact, you welcome it. You take care to fill both of your plates with food. Though you’re sure Natasha will be eating off of yours.

You engage in small talk. It’s odd to do all things considered but you find that you enjoy it. Any time you could get with Natasha was always cherished.

“I love what you did with your hair,” She rests her chin on her hand to admire you. You knew she would. Your hair took hours to do. From the wash routine to the straightening and curling, and down to the styling. Your hair falls into soft ringlets around your face, barely brushing past your shoulders.

“Try not to mess it up,” You take in a forkful of lasagna. Promises of what’s to come in the air between you.

“I make no promises,” She laughs. She takes another sip of her drink to finish it off.

“You made me wait a long time,” You gesture to the box still waiting to be opened.

“I assure you it will be well worth it,” Natasha promises. She scoots around the table to come and sit next to you. You immediately open up to her so that she can crawl into your arms. She kisses your jaw several times before settling her head on your shoulders. “I know it’s been a long while since we have been intimate.”

“A while,” You repeat jokingly. Natasha nods. It’s been a month. A long month. Not that you’re counting or anything. “It has been but it doesn’t matter because I have you all night and all morning.” You tap her nose. “Maybe we can take a bath? A massage? I know you like those.”

“You’re so good to me,” She murmurs.

“I’m only giving back what I receive,” You kiss the side of her head. For a moment, you two sit together in silence. Natasha takes your hands into her lap to toy with your wedding ring on her finger. A small symbol of your love. You haven't taken it off since the day you said 'I Do'. Neither has she with the exception of missions and fieldwork.

“Y/n,” She says. You lift your head up to look down at her. “I’d like for us to do this more often.” She turns to look at you. “I want us to always make this time for each other. It hasn’t been long but it feels like it’s been ages.”

“Having four children will do that to you,” You nod in agreement. “I promise. A night to us. Whenever we can.”

“You want another drink?” Natasha asks and you enthusiastically pass her your cup. You would be making the most of tonight.

Another hour passes where you simply sit and enjoy each other’s company. Every so often one of you will bring up a new topic or random thing that comes to mind. Overall you just want to spend time with your wife and you’re doing exactly as you planned. As the night winds down, you’re even more excited to be opening ‘The Gift’.

************************

“Spunk?” You test the phrase on your lips. You snort at the word written in large white letters along the black-wrapped casing of the bottle. What an interesting yet accurate name for a semen-like lubricant. Natasha glances over at you from her spot beside the bed. She’s lighting more candles here in the bedroom. You would help but you’re feeling a bit…light.

“The girl in the store said it was the best-selling option,” Natasha murmurs as she lifts the small red box. She places it in front of you. You’re still stuck on the fake cum. It’s such an exciting concept—one of your wildest fantasies coming true. The black bottle is simple and pretty self-explanatory. You turn it over in your hands. It’s new. “Could it be any more obvious?” You twist open the cap, and bring the open lid to your nose, to smell the fragrance. You scrunch your nose, anticipating something weird, and only get a citrusy smell in return. “Babe is this safe to be using inside you?” You ask. You’re a bit unsure. You try to read the ingredients on the back. The print is incredibly small. You squint. Interesting.

“I’ve tried it,” Natasha shrugs.

Wait. Pause. You lower your hand to look over at her.

“On yourself?” You ask and she rolls her eyes.

“No, on Wanda,” She jabs but at your interested look she changes her tune. “Yes on myself.” She says exasperatedly.

“Damn, that’s hot.” You mutter. Visuals of Natasha touching herself flash through your mind. You can imagine how good she looked with her fingers stuffed inside of her dripping wet pussy. You picture her face as she spread the sticky substance over her clit. Damn. You can’t wait to be able to do the same.

“It doesn’t take much for you, huh?” Natasha rounds the bed to stand between your legs. Your hands take their usual spot on her hips. You squeeze the skin underneath your fingers, eyeing her cleavage before looking into her eyes. She’s amused.

“Well, when my wife looks like this,” You shrug. Could she really blame you? “My panties are flooded every time you look my way.”

Natasha hums as she swipes her thumb across your bottom lip. “How much did you have to drink again?”

“Not enough,” You open your mouth to allow her to slip her finger inside of it. You suck on the digit, swirling your tongue over the edge of it before you release it with a pop. You purse your lips, hoping she gets the hint. She does. Natasha leans down to press her lips against yours. You moan at the taste of her. Strawberries and cream. Was she wearing lipgloss? You swipe your tongue against her lips asking for permission. Natasha obliges. Her tongue tentatively licks yours. You return the sentiment with enthusiasm. You pull back and look into her dilated- lust-filled eyes before you dive back in. Kissing Natasha would never get old. You don’t ever want to lose the feeling of absolute love and adoration you feel. The blooming in your chest that seemed to explode whenever she touched you is euphoric. She breathes harshly before pushing against your shoulders. You don’t have to be a master in body language to know what she wants. You lie back against the sheets pulling her down with you. She straddles your lap, her fingers finding the buttons of your creme satin button-down. One by one, your skin is exposed to the cooler air of the room. She pushes her fingers under the fabric, finding your nipple already a hardened peak.

“Nat,” You moan into her mouth as she pinches and tugs. She pries herself from your lips to kiss a trail from your neck to your chest. She nudges the covering away with her nose to take your nipple between her lips. She sucks, licks, and lathes until she’s satisfied. Then she moves over to your other breast to give it much of the same treatment. You thread your fingers through her hair. “Nat, fuck, I need you.” You’re not usually this needy. Not this compliant. She’s leading and you’re enjoying it. You know she does too. Much like your shirt, she unbuttons your pants, gripping the belt loops to tug them down your waist. You lift your hips to aid her.

“Here?” She questions as she pushes your legs apart. You nod wordlessly. You’d like her tongue on you. In you. Natasha settles on her stomach, no doubt preparing herself for a ride, as she kisses and bites at your inner thigh. The skin is sensitive there as her hair tickles with every move she makes. You look up at the ceiling in anticipation. The first lick is kitten-like. The second has your mouth dropping open as she pushes your panties further to the side. She wants full access. Natasha licks and licks until finally, she sucks your clit into her mouth. The moan you let out is low and guttural. The high you feel as she gives you her all. It never ceased to amaze you at how well she knew your body. Natasha knows every spot to lick and touch. Every inch and how to play it well. She raises one hand to spread your legs wider. When she’s sure you’ll be staying put, she presses two fingers at your entrance. The fill is amazing. She pumps into you, matching the rhythm of your hips, as she fucks you. You’re not going to last long, You’ve been wanting this. Your moans are frequent. Tumbling out of you like a mantra as she brings you to orgasm. You flutter around her fingers, clenching violently, as she hums. The vibrations give you the much-needed push as you lay spent. Finally, with a little reluctance, Natasha releases your clit from her mouth. She kisses your inner thigh again before coming to lie next to you.

You try to catch your breath. Your head lolls to the side to look over at her with glassy eyes.

“Fuck,” You breathe. She chuckles lowly. Does she know what she does to you? The power that she holds? “Give me a minute and I will absolutely rock your world.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Natasha helps you out of your shirt. Next, she takes off her own clothes, a fiery red dress with laced backing, leaving her in nothing but her panties and heels. Five-inch stilettos that show off her toned legs. She reaches down to take them off and you tap at her.

“Leave them on,” You plead and she releases the straps. “Come here,” You whisper. “I want you here with me.” You say. She nods. She crawls over to you, settling herself on your hips, before leaning down again. “How did I get so lucky?” You ask rhetorically as you look into her eyes. She smirks. You know the one. She’s just a little bit shy about this entire thing and you find that endearing and so sexy. Having a soft moment when you’re about to do nothing but dirty things to her is an amazing thing.

“So I’m guessing I mixed those drinks a little too well?” Natasha murmurs as she traces her fingers along your cheek.

“Extremely well,” You nod your head in agreement. “I’m not drunk. Honest.” You laugh at Natasha’s eyebrow raise. “I’m just really in love with you?”

“Is that a question?”

“Not even,” You shake your head. “I really want to fuck you now.” You confess and this causes Natasha to giggle. She finds the tipsy version of you quite funny. “Are you going to finally let me get my gift?” You ask with a pout. “It’s been so long.”

Natasha reaches above your head, her breasts in your face, as she reaches for the box. You watch the firm soft globes, hanging freely before you raise your head to give one of them a soft bite. Natasha flinches in surprise, dropping the box next to you as she sits up again.

“That’s the mood you’re in tonight?” She asks amusedly. She opens the box, pulling out the dildo along with its harness.

“Nat,” Your eyes widen. “This one looks so realistic.” You take the toy in your hand. It’s at least 8 inches long. Thick and veiny. A smooth tip. The same color as your skin and you don’t know if she made that choice for you or her but you’re not complaining at all. The phallus has a pair of testicles that you’re inclined to squeeze until Natasha lies a hand over yours to stop you.

“It’s filled,” She says and you immediately understand what she means. You turn over the dildo in your hands.

“So, I can cum inside you?” You ask in wonderment. Okay. Maybe you’re just a little bit drunk but you feel like it’s Christmas and your birthday rolled into one . “Oh, babe, I have to use this on you.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” She asks.

“Positive,” You stand to fix the harness around your hips. Next is the dildo that you attach with ease. Natasha looks so delicious sitting before you. Her legs were crossed at the ankle. Her eyes showed her absolute desire and hunger for you. When you’re sure everything is fixed into place accordingly, you crawl into the bed. You bracket your arms around her body, her legs parting automatically, as the head of the penis slides against her panty-covered core. Natasha’s lips drop open as she closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling. You kiss her open mouth first. Then her cheeks, her jaw, behind her ear. Anywhere you can get your lips on. You give a tiny lick to the hollow of her neck. She moans slightly. Your hips cant into her, gliding against her folds, as you prepare her. “Do you need to cum first?” Your lips ghost against her skin. “Need you to be ready for me baby.” You say.

Natasha is lost in the pleasured feeling of the cock against her clit. Even through her panties, it's sending her reeling. Natasha nods just as your fingertips trace along the waistband of her underwear. “Leave them on?” You question, thrusting a bit harder causing Natasha to gasp as it sends shockwaves through her body. You angle your hips to have the head of the cock poke just slightly at her entrance. Not enough to breach but enough to promise what's to come. You duck your head, biting at the soft tissue of her breast, as you start a steady rhythm. It’s essentially dry humping. Though from the wet spot and the way her underwear sticks to the lips of her pussy there’s nothing dry about it. You lick at her nipple, teasing it with the tip of your tongue, as Natasha whimpers below you.

“You’re teasing,” Natasha says in between labored breaths.

“Teasing?” You question. You circle your hips, paying attention to what makes her moan, to pull the most pleasure out of her. Natasha comes with a long whimper as she stiffens underneath you. Her whole body stills even as her hips continue to search for that pleasure. “That’s so good, baby.” You release her nipple from your mouth with a pop. Natasha simply kisses you. She kisses your face and neck her hand slipping up to your chest to push you on your back.

You’re impatient but excited. You lie back against the pillows to make yourself comfortable. Natasha rids herself of her panties before she straddles you. She uses her pussy lips to grind against the toy. Her juices glisten with every swipe she does. When she decides that she’s ready, Natasha lifts up, taking the penis in her hand to direct it to her entrance. You can feel the weight of her against you as she sinks down onto it. She breathes through her nose. She closes her eyes in an effort not to come too quickly as she takes it all in.

From your angle it looks absolutely heaven-like. You can see her having a bit of trouble with the last inch so you place your thumb directly along her clit, providing tight circles that catch Natasha off guard as she takes the last inch.

“Good job, baby.” You praise. You never take your finger off her clit as she lifts her hips again. The sigh that leaves her lips is followed by an even louder moan as she drops down again. You let out your own moan at the sight of her. Natasha’s hand wraps at your wrist pulling you away to place them on her hips.

“Too fast,” She mutters. She doesn’t want to come too quickly. You nod, using your hands to guide her, as she finds what makes her feel good. In turn, it makes you feel good too. Natasha’s motions are quicker. Rougher. As she rides you with abandon. You set this pace this time. Up until this moment, she’s been in charge. Not anymore. You can tell she likes the change as you grip her hips, forcing her up and down, as you thrust into her. You’re thankful for the ab workouts you’ve taken as you thrust up.

“Fuck,” You say to yourself as your eyes travel to where you and Natasha meet. She looks so full like this. She’s spread open so wide, bouncing along your cock, her clit brushing against your pelvis. After a particularly hard thrust, Natasha crumbles, folding into herself, as she leans further down. Her lips are against your ear now, her moans louder, more brazen, as you fuck into her.

“Yes, baby, yes, fuck,” Natasha babbles into your ear. You make a bold move, raising your hand before slapping her left ass cheek. It gives a loud echo through the room just as Natasha clenches at the slight pain. You smack again harder this time and she cries out again. “Yes, yes, yes.” She sounds like a broken record as she sings your praises. One thing about Natasha. She has stamina. She could do this all day. Most days. Except now, it’s been so long since she had you like this and you’re fucking her so well and you’re not giving her a chance to recover as she climaxes around your cock. She’s seated upright again, her back arching, her nails digging into your forearms as she clenches around you. You follow her headfirst into your own orgasm, your hips increasing their thrusting into hers before you drop back down onto the mattress. Natasha falls along with you.

You rub against her back, pulling the cock out of her gently, before rubbing at her cheeks. They’re probably red from how many times you smacked them and you’d be hearing about it later. For now, it was worth it. Natasha lies down tiredly in your arms. She stretches her legs and curls into you.

“Good?’ You ask and she nods. She nuzzles her nose in your neck. “I’m not done with you.” You inform her and she nods again. She already knew. You’d give her five minutes and that’s all she could wait. When you promised her tonight you meant it. You reach for the water bottle on the nightstand. You crack it open and take long sips out of it. You pass it to Natasha who tiredly takes a long gulp.

When you feel both of you have recovered enough, you flip Natasha onto her back. Missionary. A simple position. Top tier if you do say so yourself. You get to see Natasha and all of her expressions of pleasure. You get to hold her down and make her take whatever you’re giving. Natasha helps you guide the cock to her entrance. Both of you share a breath as you press into her. You kiss her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement, as she takes every single inch.

“So damn tight,” You bend yourself slightly at the knees. Her hips wrapped around your waist, your hand on her thigh to keep her spread, as you hump into her. “You’re always so wet.” You mutter into her skin. “Are you going to let me fuck you all night?” You practically growl and Natasha simply nods her head. She’s too lost in the pleasure to give you anything of substance. This round is hard and fast. You don’t hold back as you pound into her. Your thrusts are sharp and short, causing her breasts to bounce with the force, as Natasha begins to whimper again. Her whimpers quickly turn into moans when you turn your attention to her neck to place another bite. Natasha gasps, arching her back, and you can feel things become a bit slicker as she floods your cock.

“Yes,” She manages to moan out. You sit up so that you can kiss her lips.

“Whose pussy is this?” You ask. You’re feeling bold. Probably something you both will laugh at later. For now, you need her to say it. "Whose is it?"

"Yours," She wheezes. She doesn't really know up or down right now.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach. You reach down between the two of you, making enough room to toy with her clit, as you want to come at the same time. You slam into her and this time Natasha practically screams.

“Oh fuck, yes, Daddy,” Natasha moans and you almost do a double take. She’s never called you that before. Suddenly that’s all you want to hear from her.

“Say it again,” You command, and Natasha’s eyes open just slightly to question. “Say it.” You thrust into her again and Natasha grips your forearms for purchase.

“Daddy,” Natasha cries and you practically come on the spot. You angle your hips again, gripping hers in your hand, as you thrust harder and harder and harder until Natasha reaches her peaks, and you fall quickly behind her. You know your grip will bruise later and you’ll apologize when the time comes. Instead, you squeeze the balls of the fake cock, making sure to keep your hips still, as it spills into Natasha in thick spurts. She is thrown into another small orgasm as her insides are painted with the sticky substance.

You kiss across her forehead, tapping at her hips again, and she loosens them as you pull out. You look down between the two of you, her pussy still pulsing, the fake semen dripping from her and onto the blanket. You take two of your fingers, sliding them through her core to collect the mixed fluids to bring to your mouth.

“Nat?” You question when her hips jump at the feel of your fingers. She’s sensitive and exhausted. You lean back, the cock bobbing in the air though you ignore it, as you help her take off the heels. Really you’re doing all the work and she lies there.

“Mhmm?” She responds without ever opening her eyes.

“This was the best present ever,” You say and she laughs. A full belly laugh that has you laughing too.

It was well worth the wait.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 4]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3

words: 4k

As you walk to the park that is a few blocks away from the diner with Matt and Minnie, you allow yourself time to think. 

Minnie is tucked into her stroller, Scooby Doo and Pig clutched firmly in her arms. She is excitedly updating Scooby about the drama that is the ducks at the pier. Matt walks beside you, his cane in one hand, held up away from the sidewalk, while his other lightly grips at your elbow. Neither of you talk - he's probably concentrating on walking and listening to Minnie babble. You wonder how often he's walked with someone while they push something - it seems awkward. 

Which has got you thinking about the best way to get around when you are all out as a family. The stroller is great storage, but you can transfer that into a backpack pretty easily. The problem is you are not sure if you can carry Minnie for that long.  She's small for her age but you're not that strong. She's been walking more and more, but you don't expect her to make a big jump so soon. 

Maybe you can invest in a wagon. You are sure there must be one somewhere you can buy that fits your needs. It's not like Matt is the first Blind parent ever. 

You add it to your mental research and buy list. You also need a Braille labeler - you know for a fact Minnie is going to want to learn it to be like her father and you'll need to label everything anyways. It will help you both learn. 

Your mind won't stop whirling and adding to your list - it's jumping from fun to practical to everything in between. You wish you could get out your phone as you walk to type everything up, so you won't forget later. When you get to the park, you'll do just that. You have a feeling Matt will be too preoccupied to care if you're on your phone for a bit.

You can sneak in some pictures, too.

The pier isn't as crowded as you expect it to be for a Saturday. People are milling about but most of the benches along the walking path are open.  There are a few couples having picnics on the grass and some at the tables along the river having lunch. 

You have a preferred spot in the corner of the park - there's a bench that faces the grass and the river, so you can sit while also watching Minnie. It also has a good view of the fountain, so it is perfect for duck watching. As usual, no one is there so you lead your little group there. 

As you come to a stop, you describe where you are to Matt. You try to be accurate without sounding condescending. Then you jump into the plan, "I have a blanket in the stroller. We can lay it out and we can play here, and we can also sit on the bench while Mouse does her thing."

Matt hums his approval, "that sounds perfect. Do you need help setting up?"

You turn the question to Minnie, "Do you need help setting up, Mouse?"

She looks up at you as she works on unbuckling herself. She scrunches up her face as she considers the question then shakes her head, "No, I'm a Big Girl. I can do it by myself. Thank you…" She trails off as she tries to remember the rest of the phrase. This isn't something you've taught her - she's picked it up from you apparently. She remembers after a beat and smiles up at Matt best she can from the angle she's at, "Thank you for asking."

Matt looks so surprised by her adorable politeness. You chuckle as a grin spreads across his face before he answers her. 

"You're very welcome." 

You hold the stroller steady, even after putting on the break, as Minnie climbs out. Instantly she turns back around and sets her toys where she was sitting.

"You have to wait here," she says as she buckles Pig and Scooby back into the stroller. 

You look over to Matt as Minnie starts to pull things out of the storage space. He's got his head tilted towards where she is piling things in the ground, this soft little smile on his face. He looks so relaxed and happy. You wonder what is going through his head - if this is anything like he thought it would be. 

None of this is how you thought it would be. You never considered this could be a possibility - being here with him and Minnie, enjoying time together as a family. It makes you kind of giddy thinking this could become a thing. You could come to the park on Saturdays and watch the ducks together. 

That's something you never had as a kid. You never had family outings. You went to school and went home - that was your childhood. No family vacations. No weekend getaways. No special trips. You were lucky if you were allowed to accompany your parents to dinners out. 

You never felt wanted as a child.

Minnie is never going to experience that. You love her to the moon and back and you let her know at every turn.  You show her in every way you can think of that she is your world. 

You don't expect Matt to feel the same way you do, even if you are pretty sure he's already head over heels for his daughter. You know he must be extremely busy running his own firm, but you hope you'll be open to your idea of spending this time together. Lunch on Saturdays, then coming to the park. It's a perfect little outing. 

You make a mental note to ask him.

Minnie is efficient in her setting up. She spreads out the blanket, making sure it's laid out flat. Then she brings her backpack over and pulls out her notepad and crayons and the cutest thing is she is narrating all by herself.

"And I brought bubbles, too! And my sunglasses!" She shows Matt her stylish Barbie sunglasses before unfolding them and putting them on. "We match!"

"We match?" He confirms, his voice getting a touch soft. 

"You match," you say with a smile. "Her glasses are a little more pink than yours. And cat eyed."

"Mommy, put on yours too!" Minnie requests, and who are you to deny her? You pull your sunglasses out from your purse and perch them on your nose.

"Now we all match," you tell Matt with a bit of a shy smile. Your little one loves to feel included and dressing like you is one of her favorite ways to do that. You have a feeling it will be no different once she gets closer to Matt and she will start to mimic him more. The glasses are just the first step. 

Of course, Minnie doesn't register that her sweetness is having an emotional effect and continues on by pulling one of her many paper maps out. You're lucky that such things are out of style - it makes them extremely cheap. You bought a bunch of random map booklets online for about twenty dollars and giving them to her was a bigger event than Christmas. 

You watch her unfold it and lay it out on the blanket and can't help but smile. You lean towards Matt to update him once you realize Mouse has distracted herself and has stopped talking. 

"She brought one of her maps with her and now she's trying to figure out which way to turn it. I think it's safe for us to go over now." 

You unlock the stroller and offer your arm out to Matt, letting him know you have done so. He gently takes your elbow, and you lead him the few feet into the grass. He uses his cane to find a free space to sit and lowers himself to the ground, somehow managing to sit legs crossed despite his tight slacks. You angle the stroller, so Scooby and Pig are watching over you before joining everyone else on the ground.

Attention turns back to Matt as you settle. Minnie looks over to him, her smile lighting up. She moves to be between the two of you, crawling on her knees to do so. 

"There's duckies by the water," she tells Matt as she plops back down.

"Would you mind telling me about them?" He asks, voice taking on just a bit of emotion. You know it's something Mouse can't pick up on, but it makes your heart sing a little bit. Seeing Matt react to your daughter and how much he wants to interact with her makes you emotional in all of the best ways. 

You turn a little so you can get a better look at the fountain - there are some ducks milling about and you are extremely curious how Minnie is going to describe them to Matt.

"They are over there!" She points to the fountain, then to your great surprise, uses her non-pointing hand to take Matt's hand and over her own. He seems stunned as well, as it takes him a few beats before he starts to feel over her little fist and discovers which way, she is directing his attention. 

"That way?" He confirms, motioning in the same direction. 

"Uh-huh, and there's…there's one. Two. Three. Four! There's four ducks," she counts, moving her hand to try and show him where each duck is. Only they are grouped pretty close, so you don't know how helpful that is. It's the thought that counts.

"You're really good at counting," Matt praises and your little one lights up.

She puffs up her chest and proudly declares, "I can count to six."

"You can count to six?" He repeats, sounding in awe. You really don't know if it's genuine or played up, but either way you find yourself grinning. 

She answers in the affirmative before starting to describe the ducks. They are more brown, but she tells Matt they are yellow. You don't correct her - you want Minnie to describe things to Matt in her own words and get comfortable with it. You can ask him later if those little details are something he wants depicted as accurate. For now, you let Mouse and Matt bond. 

She drops his hand once she's done showing him exactly which duck is which, then jumps into actions. "They are sitting and brushing their flappies with their nose. Mommy says that is their bath."

"That's right," you affirm, "they don't have a bathtub, so they use their beaks to clean their feathers." You always try to relate new concepts back to things Minnie will understand. She gets she has to brush her hair to keep it clean and not tangled and you told her feathers are like the ducks' hair, but their brush is their beak.

"Ducks are stinky and need lots of baths," she tells Matt with lots of confidence. She's never told you the ducks smell bad before, so you are amused by this new information. "Dogs are stinky, too. But not Scooby, he's not stinky."

"I think dogs are stinky, too," Matt says in agreement, this little smile starting to grow on his face like he and Minnie share a secret. The knowledge they have something else in common spurs your daughter on.

"There's a doggie over there," once again, she picks up Matt's hands and directs him towards a nearby couple with their dog. "He looks like a snowball. And that doggie," she points them another way and you have a feeling Mouse's new goal is to make sure Matt knows all the animals in the park. 

You take this opportunity to get your phone out so you can write out your notes. But, first, of course, you snap a few candid photos of Minnie sitting beside her father, hand and hand, talking about dogs. You catch a one you will definitely want to print and hang - Minnie beaming up at Matt mid-sentence while he looks like he is enthralled by every word. You can't help yourself and also record her telling him about an old fat dog someone is walking. 

You are sure you'll want to look back on this moment in a few years’ time.

Or maybe tonight.

You have to pull yourself away from the camera app and force yourself to switch to your notes. You already have something going for things you need to buy and start adding to it, half listening to the pair beside you. There is so much you want to write; you feel like you type non-stop for five minutes straight before you open up the web browser on your phone to see the price of the items you want. 

Things aren't as disgustingly expensive as you expected them to be, but you will still need to rearrange your budget a bit. You shouldn't need to dip into your savings if you put one or two things on your credit card, if your mental math is adding up. Of course, things might get more costly depending on quality - you are never one to skimp on that. 

You are going to have to do a lot more research. There is probably a forum somewhere that will give accurate reviews of products and you'll probably find things to buy you hadn't even thought of yet. 

You debate starting that search on your phone. At least until you notice Minnie is starting to tilt her head so she can rub her ear against her shoulder. You have told her she can't put her fingers in her ears after she managed to cut the inside of one with her nails and it got infected. This behavior is new, so you put your phone down and address it.

"Does your ear itch, Mouse?" You ask, thinking maybe her hair is tickling her or a bug got on her. 

"The boom-boom is too loud," she says with a pout, and you have no idea what she is talking about. The park is relatively quiet - no one is playing music and the river is clear of boats. But if your baby is saying something is too loud and it is hurting her ears, you are going to listen to her. She knows what she is experiencing, and you don't. You never want her to dismiss something that is hurting her.

Matt cocks his head to the side, his smile turning down into a frown, "The boom-boom? Which way is that coming from, sweetheart?"

Minnie, still holding onto Matt's hand, points towards the seating area by the river. There are a few people sitting there - but they are not making any sort of ruckus. 

It doesn't matter to you - you fish the pair of noise canceling headphones you always have on you out of your purse. You unfold them and gently put them over Minnie's ears. She squirms before finally letting go of Matt to fuss with their positioning. 

"Is that better, honey?" You ask, gently rubbing her back, hoping to give some comfort. She pushes at her eyes with the back of her hand before nodding. She takes a few moments to adjust then your little one turns and crawls her way into your lap, burying her face against your neck and hugging onto you. You wrap your arms around her, starting to rock in hopes it will make any lingering aches go away.

Matt is facing towards the direction Minnie said the loud noise was coming from, his brow wrinkled and openly scowling now. For someone with such a joyful smile, his unhappy face is a little terrifying. 

"I put her noise canceling headphones on," you tell Matt. He jerks to face you, his expression relaxing into something more concerned than angry. 

"Is she okay?" 

"She will be. She's crawled into my lap, and it takes her a few minutes to get used to the headphones. She might get a little fussy if whatever was bothering her is still going, but she'll be okay." You kiss your daughter's hair before looking back to Matt. "I don't know what triggers it or what she can hear that I can't, but the headphones help." 

"Does this happen often? Needing the headphones?" He asks and there is something in his voice that makes you feel like this is an important issue to him. His worry is almost tangible. You remember your phone call and his apprehension when you mentioned Minnie's sensitivities. It feels like you something you should review together when Minnie is preoccupied, and you can have more privacy. 

"Enough that I bring them with me when we go out. There's always sirens going off and if they are close, they hurt my ears, so I imagine they hurt hers." You rub your hand in a soothing motion over Minnie's back. She's leaning heavy into you, and you wonder if all her excitement has drained out of her after this upset. 

"Have you mentioned it to her doctor?" Matt asks, cautiousness in his voice like he's worried he's overstepping. You want to tell him he's allowed to ask these questions, but now is not the time.

"We did a hearing test, but they were only concerned if she couldn't hear, not if she was hearing too much. She hasn't gotten any ear deformities or any other medical problems with her ears, so they just sent us on our way, saying she'll grow out of it. She says the headphones help, but you can hear me just fine, can't you, Mouse?"

She nods against your neck, mumbling into your skin, "I don't like the doctor."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry." You give Matt a sad smile, "I think they are just too big for her. But she can play in them and hear me still, so I try to think of it as a plus?" 

"A plus?" He asks, brow scrunching up slightly. Again, he doesn't sound judgmental, only curious. 

You shrug, "I don't know, thinking of everything so negatively all the time is draining, so I just try to even out the pro-con list. Like, sometimes she'll wear them when we are here and I can go sit on the bench, but if I call out to her, she hears me. I can let her be a little independent, but she's still safe. I can be three feet away instead of right on top of her. When I wear my earphones, I can't hear anything at all. So, they help but don't block everything out? When she gets bigger, we can find ones that fit better. And she gets a cute little accessory and we get to make the little sleeves together. There are so many cute headphones, too..." 

You trail off, unsure where you are going with your little explanation. You aren't even sure it makes sense. Matt's still got a strange little frown on his face and you don't know if it's from how Minnie is acting or from how you are handling everything. You have to bite your lip to keep you from continuing on, rambling about how your daughter's sensitivities will never be a burden. 

Matt wets his lips with his tongue, and he starts to pick at the hem of his pants. It's a small insight to how he is feeling, and you don't know what to do, so you just keep rocking Minnie.

"After I lost my sight, I only had a few months with my dad," his voice is so soft, you can just barely hear him, but you are so focused on it. "It was hard on him, harder on him than it was me. He didn't know how to help me; he didn't know how to get the resources - not that a lot was available to us. But he tried, you know? He really did…and when I lost him, it felt like I lost that, too. I mean, the social workers and nuns were there, I wasn't neglected, but…it wasn't the same." He angles his head towards you, motioning to his ears. "And I know this isn't the same situation, a sense being sensitive versus losing one completely, but you being so in tune with her needs, it reminds me of my dad." 

You can't imagine how high of a praise that is and you feel yourself turning pink. Matt ducks his head, this shy little smile on his face like he knows how touched you are. 

"It is what she deserves," you mumble. You want to push past your own awkwardness, so you clear your throat and default to questions you already have in your mind. "Do…you want to do this again? Next Saturday?"

His head jerks up in surprise and a smile blooms across his face. "I would love that."

"Love that," is grumbled against your neck and right away you know Mouse is going to need her nap soon. Once she starts mimicking like this, it is only a matter of time before she is conked out and you rocking her is only luring her closer. 

Matt looks completely over the moon by the comment, and you dare to push just a little bit. "I was thinking…maybe we could make this a thing? Saturday lunches?"

Matt licks his lips then nods, his grin just getting bigger and bigger, "Yes, yeah. That would be…yeah." He seems a little overwhelmed by the thought, but in a good way. Like he didn't think it was a possibility. 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, then tilts his head so it appears he's looking down at the little girl half asleep in your lap, "I want that. I want…this. I want it to be official." He drops his hand, "You said we need to do a doctor's appointment. What would be after that?"

"They have over the counter ones now, but I think that would be best. Then…altering documentation and stuff, at least, officially and legally." You don't want to get into the discussion of rights and such at the moment and Matt seems to be on the same page. He's a lawyer, so it must be occurring to him. "I'll, um, contact the doctor and ask when we could come in."

Fingers brush against your thigh and you look down to see Matt offering out his hand. Hesitantly, not knowing what he wants, you take it. Gently, he squeezes your fingers, then starts running his thumb over your knuckles. 

"Thank you. For finding me. For this. For her. I thought God had showed me what my path should be, but I think I was foolish for thinking He was done with me just yet," Matt says, voice so soft and fond. "He was just preparing me for this."

The religious talk makes you flush - you don't remember if you've ever actually been in a church before - but it seems important to Matt, so you gently squeeze his fingers back, and as usual, say the first thought that crosses your mind. "I thank God for her every day. Somedays, I really do think she is Heaven sent." 

"Our gift from God."

You fall into a comfortable silence, you holding Mouse as she gets limper and limper against you, and Matt beside you, a little breeze blowing his hair a bit and somehow making him look ethereal. You have to tear your eyes away from him - even if he is blind and you are wearing sunglasses, it is rude to stare. Instead, you focus on the ducks.

They are still cleaning their feathers, but now one has started to quack occasionally. The ambient park noises are almost relaxing, and you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, all of this is going to be okay. Maybe, the world won't spiral out of control now that Matt is in your life. Maybe, you'll just keep having nice Saturdays at the park until Minnie decides it's too uncool to spend the day with her mom and dad and wants to hang out with her friends instead. 

But that won't come for a very long time. Right now, you'll sit holding hands with the man who changed your life forever and the little angel you have both been blessed with. 

a/n:

yes matt, god dropped a building on you to make you a better dad

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @mayp11-blog@danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt

[rebelliousstories]

Rock A Bye Baby

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Infirtility, Violence, Strong Language

Word Count: 1,937

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: Two hundred years seems like a long time, but there is somethings that never change; no matter how much time had passed.

“Janey, we gotta get to school! Come on, little lady.” A woman yelled from downstairs in the kitchen. She plated some fruit on the remainder of the plates before moving them to the dining table. Someone came up behind her and placed their hands on her hips.

“This looks good, sweetheart. And the food isn’t half bad either.” Cooper chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She giggled and let herself relax into his arms for just a bit.

“Such a flatterer, Coop. Now go get that daughter of yours and bring her in for breakfast. She has a test today.” Sending her lover off, she made her way to the table and finished setting it up just in time for her two favorite people in the world to come down the stairs. Right before she got in her chair, she was tackled by a little bundle of energy.

“Oof, you are getting strong, baby. Come on and eat your breakfast, Janey. Then we can go to school.” She nudged the young girl in the direction of the plate she set aside for her. Watching Janey tuck into her meal, the woman smiled as she did the same. Her husband was sitting next to her and also ate his breakfast with a grin. Once everyone was done, she quickly ran around to tidy up before they grabbed their things.

“Come on, Janey. Let’s get going so daddy can drop us off at school. Okay?” And with that, Cooper was more than happy to be their chauffeur for the morning to take his daughter to learn, and his wife to work. The drive there was a relatively short affair, full of loud singing from the passenger and back seat as the radio was cranked loud. Parking in a spot, Cooper leaned over and kissed his wife goodbye as she took her step-daughter in for her school day.

That was a little over two hundred years ago, and everything changed.

Now, there was no more days at school. No more drives in the countryside or taking Janey to her mother’s house because of the visitation. Now it was navigating a nuclear wasteland for two hundred years.

They had been on the move for a couple days now. Very little was causing them to stop, and that was how they liked it. The couple functioned better on the move. Never allowing themselves to get comfortable in one place for long. But the town they were on their way to was known for big bounties. And they truly needed a bounty to replenish their caps after buying a bunch of RadAway.

“You go inside. I’m gonna stay out here for a moment.” She said, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder briefly before passing him in favor of seeing what stall were available.

Cooper just nodded and left to collect the job he did not care to much what she was going to while he was inside. She could take care of herself. When he exited the shop, he spotted her at a stall with different types of wears. He distinctly remembered her talking about how she needed a new undershirt and possibly some new boots. It all passed quickly, and there they went off again.

The couple walked all around the area, utilizing Cooper’s tracking skills to the fullest of the extent. If they got this done quickly, that meant more caps. Leaning over to look at something in the dirt, a chain slipped out from her new undershirt. Cooper instantly recognized the ring looped through the metal and unconsciously placed a hand over the matching piece hovering over his chest. Even after all this time,he was glad one thing had remained the same. It was probably what made surviving the Wastelands easier.

“Hey baby! Come here.” The Ghoul walked over to his partner, and looked at where she was pointing. A blood trail. Kneeling, he stuck a finger in before tasting the dark red liquid, and spitting out the sand.

“He’s close. Let’s move.” His voice clipped as he took off to follow the trail. Ever the faithful wife, she followed close behind. By the time the sun had set, they still had more trail to track, but no light to do it by. So the couple found themselves stationed in the middle of a junkyard with a roaring fire. She rested her head on his chest and felt his arms around her shoulders, drawing her in closer.

“Wait, do you hear that?” She peaked her head up, and waited to see if she could hear it again. Cooper went to say something but she just shushed him. She heard it again; this time louder.

“What the hell is that?” She got up and followed the sound of the noise before her husband could stop her.

“Damnit woman. Slow down.” He grumbled, following after her with a scowl. She continued to follow the source of the noise, never wavering in her pursuit. It took a couple of turns, and a few trips from the uneven terrain, but she eventually found the source. A moving bundle of blankets were placed on top of a barrel.

“The hell you doin’ woman?” Cooper finally caught up to where his wife had stopped and paused over the same bundle that she was hovered over.

“Oh look at them, Coop.” She cooed, picking up the wiggling bundle. In her arms was a baby.

“I wonder what you are. You can’t be more than a few weeks old.” The baby was tucked securely against her body as she rearranged the blankets to see what the baby was clothed in.

“Oh you’re a baby girl. So cute with those chubby cheeks.” Her finger stroked over her face, and felt her heart swell when the babe wrapped her chunky little hand around it.

“Now, don’t you go gettin’ attached to that thing.” Cooper looked to his wife, and then down at the small human in her arms.

“Coop, she’s so small and defenseless. We can’t just leave her here.” She countered, already moving to leave the area where the child was abandoned.

“No. No, no, no. Now what we ain’t gonna do is keep the damn thing.” He followed her through the path all the while her arms were occupied.

“Oh relax, beau. I ain’t leaving her.” Making their way back to their little campsite, she sat down a little closer to the fire and held the babe close. She retired the blankets around and tried to find something to give her for her hunger.

“You just gonna get attached to the thing and it’s not gonna survive.” He commented, sitting back down in his seat but not draping his arm over her again. She grabbed her canteen and dribbled a little bit of water to her lips.

“Need to find some formula when we get into town tomorrow.” It was just a little side comment, one that she did not even realize that she had said.

“Already told you, we ain’t keepin’ it.” Cooper grumbled, placing his head over his eyes.

“Coop, she’s just a little girl.” She replied, but her husband did not. Whenever the little girl in her arms slept, she caught a brief moment of shut eye too. The sun came up, and woke her husband who looked well rested.

“Is that thing still here?” He asked, looking over at his wife with a sleeping baby in her arms.

“Yes she is,” a yawn broke up her words. Her eyes were a bit hazy and tired, but she was aware of enough to continue going. Packing up their things, she had to navigate everything with the child in her arms. Her husband was grumbling the entire way about being slowed down, and how he did not want the child to travel with them. But as they continued to follow the trail, the baby stayed quiet, and stayed asleep.

There was something interesting about having the baby with them. Even if he refused to admit it, Cooper found himself extra protective of the child in his wife’s arms. It took him back to when Janey was a baby; how small and defenseless she was. Always relying on her parents for everything. When they found the target, he held a hand up to stop them.

“Stay here.” He whispered, ducking around the corner. Howard saw the trail of blood, but no body was around. It was not until he heard his wife scream, and a thud followed by the sounds of bones breaking. He whipped around to find their target on the ground, and his wife with a baby still in her arms, kicking the man wherever she could. The target’s jaw was definitely broken, and she was trying to at least shatter the knees of the man who kept trying to get up. Unhooking the lasso, Cooper wrangled the large man onto his knees, before turning to the two females next to hm.

“Y’all alright now?” Cooper turned his attention to the babe in her arms, before checking on his wife.

“Yeah. We’re all good, Coop. Let’s go turn that bounty in.” She stated, determined to get back to the town. The man picked up their bounty and began to march them into the town the had received the hit from.

“You know, you checked on her first before checking on me. Never done that before.” She commented, shielding the child from the sun with her cloak. Cooper smirked as he kept his eye on the prisoner in front of them.

“Well, maybe she is alright. Ain’t like she ever done anything that deserves bein’ left in this god forsaken desert. You gotta take care o’ her, but you can keep ‘er.” He drawled, letting his eyes wander to the child before looking at the love in his wife’s eyes.

“Didn’t realize you ghouls could even have children. Who would want to be raised by a couple of mutants?” Their bounty snarled under his breath. Loud enough that she felt self-conscious, and loud enough that Cooper felt rage. In the blink of an eye, he had blown a hole through the man’s shoulder, who dropped to his knees screaming.

“Now,” Cooper caught up to him and tightened the rope around his body, “you ever talk about my wife like that again, I ain’t gonna miss and hit your shoulder.”

He let the man go, dragged him back up to his feet, and made him walk yet again. Cooper fell back where his wife was now suddenly silent.

“Don’t listen to the shit he says darlin’. You’re as fine a momma as I ever did see.” He reassured her with a quick pat to her back.

“What if he’s right, Coop? I mean, maybe two hundred years ago we were good parents. Well, you were. Me… I was never able to be a mom.” She looked to the baby in her arms with a mournful gaze.

“This is your chance to do it again. Just cause it ain’t your by blood don’t mean it ain’t yours.” Once more, Cooper kept his voice down while he reassured his wife. She looked towards him, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, yet found nothing. Silently, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and continued onward. Cooper knew that their captive was far too focused on his own shoulder and pain to notice their interaction, but watching her with that baby, made him think about if they just had more time all those years ago; could they have found a way to have children?

[cal-flakes]

can u do a story where the reader has a sleepover w sarah and it starts to storm so she goes over to rafes room 🙆🏼‍♀️

of course my love <3

╰┈➤ comforted by rafe

warnings: just fluff.

summary: y/n’s fear of thunder kicks in one night at her bestfriends house.

the rumbling of the clouds above tannyhill jolted y/n awake suddenly. perspiration apparent on her face. sighing, she turned to face sarah, who was fast asleep, starfished next to her.

she sat up, groaning lightly at the ache in her neck, she must’ve fallen asleep in an awkward position. a flash of bright light lit up the room for a second, lightning zipping across kildare in the night.

y/n hated thunderstorms, she could never sleep through them. to others it was irrational, but to her the fear was very real.

a hoarse whimper escaped her as a loud bang met her ears, the dryness of her throat making itself known. another angry roar erupted, causing her waterline to brim with tears.

y/n slipped out from under the sheets and left the room, careful not to make any noise. over the years of being bestfriends with sarah cameron, she’d memorised tannyhill pretty well. her and sarah had once drawn a map of the squeaky floorboards in an attempt to sneak out a few years ago.

putting her knowledge to use, she padded through the house tactically, tears streaming.

jumping at ever clap of thunder, she squinted through her tears, relying solely on the flashes of lightning for vision.

she switched on the kitchen lights once she reached the door way. a shaky breath forced its way out of her lungs before she let out a few quiet sobs.

she couldn’t find anything to ground her when thunderstorms hit the outerbanks, not anymore anyways. before her brother moved away, she used to tiptoe across the hall to his room, where he’d sit up with her for hours until the sky calmed down.

her hands shook as she filled her glass in the sink, fumbling with the tap. y/n took a small sip, sighing before scurrying over to the couch in the private living room.

she sat there for a few minutes, stuck in her thoughts when the patio door handle turned eerily slow. her heart raced, coming up with the worst scenarios she could think of. stuck in place, she watched as her bestfriends brother snook inside, unaware of her presence.

turning around from the now closed door, he jumped at the sight of her. sniffling, his eyes widened. “what are you doing here?” he whispered, cautious of waking his father. also sniffling, y/n wiped the tears away from her cheeks.

“i stayed over with sarah.” she muttered, hand gesturing to the room above them. y/n took the chance to observe her friends brother, spotting similar tear marks on his cheeks, his nose red.

unbeknownst to her, he had the same idea. “are you crying?” he asked carefully, tip toeing towards the couch she was curled up on. her already pink cheeks flushed a brighter shade, humiliation now coursing through her.

“thunderstorms, they always get me. you?” self-deprecating laughter filled the room as she nodded towards him, hands still shaky.

lifting his arm up to scratch the back of his head nervously, rafe began to stutter, struggling to explain why he was also crying.

y/n, empathising with his unwillingness to tell, patted the spot next to her, noticing as his face twisted into confusion.

“you look like you need a hug, it just so happens that i do to..” she joked, hoping to lighten the mood. he eyed her suspiciously, battling with his thoughts before giving in, knowing she was right.

he sat down next to her, throwing his arm up, allowing her to shuffle under it. y/n rest her head upon his chest, closing her eyes, revelling in the comfort.

the pair sat in silence for a while, rafe taking it upon himself to stroke her arm whenever she jumped in fright. after a little longer, both y/n’s and rafe’s eyes had fluttered shut, falling into a deep sleep as they curled further and further into eachother.

y/n opened her eyes with a yawn, the sun gleamed through the patio doors, heating her cheeks. quickly taking in her surroundings, she adjusted her head, eyes landing on rafe’s closed one’s.

for a minute, she allowed herself to admire him, a smile tugging at her lips as she took in his features. this might have been the first time she’d ever seen him so peaceful, she thought to herself.

“rafe, rafe!” she spoke in a hushed tone, prodding his shoulder lightly.

after a moment, he stirred awake, looking at his little sisters friend in shock. blowing some air out of his nose, he chuckled slightly, as did she.

“let’s not tell anyone about this” she giggled, thinking about how truly peaceful her sleep had been. nodding in agreement, rafe sat up, smiling at her sheepishly.

and that, was the start of a strange, mutually beneficial relationship with her bestfriends brother.

[harryforvogue]

or the one where annaliese is sick and harry has never hated himself more <3

read wtss in full here

read more wtss content here

***

Every morning, without fail, Harry gets up to make his wife breakfast and lunch before she leaves for work.

Lunch is the easy part – usually leftovers from the night before with a fresh salad and dressing, drink, and snack. She really enjoys having something sweet after a large meal, and she often falls victim to taking a nap after lunch, so to keep her awake, he packs a bar of dark chocolate into her lunch bag. 

Breakfast is trickier because sometimes she doesn’t wake with an appetite. Still, he’ll put out something small on the table. A single slice of toast with butter and coffee, or even just yogurt with his homemade granola. Something that will keep her fed until lunch. It was a part of his vow of course. Keeping her fed and happy. He can’t do the latter but he can certainly put all his effort into the first.

Once her bag is zipped up, and her yogurt is left on the dining table, he grabs an apple for himself and then returns to his room. She’ll be getting up in ten minutes. She gets ready quickly too thanks to her hair, outfit, and skin preparations from the night before, so he never has to worry about her coffee getting cold. It’s an unspoken routine.

Harry sits on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, waiting for her door to open so that he can go back to sleep.

Ten minutes pass. The door doesn’t open. He doesn’t hear the soft pad of her sleepy steps making their way to the bathroom down the hall. He gives her an additional five minutes. Perhaps she wants to sleep in. But then five minutes become ten and then fifteen, and then Harry worries she’ll be late for work.

He’s torn between waking her and leaving her alone when he hears a wet cough from the other side of the wall. His heart drops.

Harry quietly opens his door and walks to her room. Her door is closed, but when he presses his ear against it, he can hear her coughs, followed by a whimper of distress. Alarm bells ring through his head, his hand shooting out to grab the door handle without thinking. He stops himself just as he begins turning it open, his other hand balled into a fist in frustration at himself. 

At least Annaliese knows she’s too ill to go to work. Harry moves away from the door slowly and goes back to the kitchen, putting all the food he’s prepared for her in the fridge. He rolls up his sleeves, taking out several vegetables, stock, and a cutting board. He gets to work without thinking.

The sounds of Annaliese coughing travels through the house, hitting him square in the chest.

Had he missed something important? A pale flush of her cheeks that he mistook for the effects of the cold draft that swept her into the house? Several sneezes that he brushed off as allergies? A red nose that he blamed on the wintery February? Fatigue that he assumed was from the long day on her feet?

He feels terrible.

He should have known.

Harry cooks the stock on high flames, adding a tiny tinge of spice as she enjoys it. While that continues, he kneads dough and sets it aside for dinner later. He’ll make her a fresh, herbed loaf. Run the store to get that sweet cream butter she likes so much.

Once the food is done, he puts all the dishes on the tray, and carefully makes his way back to the rooms. He knocks on Annaliese’s door once before allowing himself in.

He rarely comes into this room anymore, so the memories of the shared space hit him hard. He keeps a neutral face, but his eyes dart around, seeing the things exactly that way he left them. Lamps in the same spots, the same curtains, the same number of pillows on the bed. His side of the bed, in fact, is messy, as if Annaliese often travels to that side during her sleep. The image of her reaching for him in the middle of the night makes him falter in his step, an odd pain near his ribs.

To his surprise, his wife is sitting up in bed, her wild curls in her face, one shoulder bare from the neckline sliding down too far as if she unbuttoned the top of her pajama set due to discomfort. She raises her head to look at him, but it’s so hard to as if her head is heavy. 

“Could you call the school?” she whispers, a quiver to her voice.

Harry nods and goes to put the food on the side table. At the sight of what’s on the table, though, his breath hitches.

A framed photograph rests in the center of the wood, an outtake that wasn’t put in with the rest of the photo album. It’s from their wedding: Harry feeding Annaliese a bit of cake, the two of them unwinding during their reception with Harry’s tie already undone and Annaliese’s veil abandoned somewhere in the hall. He recalls the moment violently, remembering how she looked at him from under her lashes, a wild glimpse of excitement at the promise of their new life together. It’s the first time he called her his wife. He kissed her messy mouth afterwards. 

Harry puts the tray down with trembling fingers.

She looks at the food curiously but doesn’t say anything more.

He hands her a large cup of water first, which she enthusiastically drinks. Then, he fixes the sheets around her thighs and places the tray beside her.

“Want this?” he asks, holding up a packet of saltines.

“Mhm.” 

He rips open the plastic and crushes the crackers into her soup. She holds her hands out for the bowl, shuddering delicately when the warmth hits her. "Thank you."

Annaliese tilts her head back and sighs deeply. Her fingers curl around the spoon, stirring the soup weakly. Her hair is still in her face, and she makes no move to give herself between visual access.

Harry hesitates, but then sits on the bed beside her legs, reaching out. She shudders when his cold fingertips touch the sides of her face – though it’s just barely. He unravels the curls, separating them from her clips, and then uses two of the largest ones to pin her hair back. Annaliese’s eyes flutter shut, and through the warm morning light, he sees her fever flushed waxy skin and parted lips. He somehow resists the urge to hold her face.

“Thank you,” she murmurs again, keeping her eyes closed. 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. So he stands, brings her medicine from the bathroom, and then goes to the kitchen to give her school a call. He introduces himself as Annaliese’s husband, details how she’s in no circumstance to get to work for today, and takes a wild guess to say she has lesson plans in her classroom. The administration must like her very much because the woman he talks to sounds sad to hear his wife isn't not doing well. It makes Harry feel better though, knowing that she’s well taken care of outside this odd routine they have.

He returns to her room, prepared to ask her if she needs anything more. 

She’s halfway done with her soup, and the overwhelming warmth has caused her hairline to go all damp. He enters the door with a hand towel, rolling it up. When she looks up at him with her tired eyes, he’s unsure if he should be the one mopping that sweat, or if she’ll even let him.

“Did they ask what time I’ll come in?” she asks instead, voice low as if she won't be able to get it any louder.

Harry’s brows furrow together. “You’re taking the day off.”

As stubborn as always, Annaliese says, “I don’t need the entire day off. Just the morning. My students have a written exam after lunchtime.”

“You are in no health to go to work today.”

Annaliese looks sad. She takes another weak spoonful of her soup. 

Harry suddenly feels the urge to explain himself. “I would have made something more if I had the time,” he says, wringing the towel between his hands. “But that’s all the stock we have. We didn’t have any carrots or eggs or I would have added them in. Maybe the celery isn’t cooked all the way through either.”

His wife shakes her head, and then winces. “It’s good.”

“Is it spicy enough?”

“Yes.”

“And the pepper?”

“It’s good.”

“The salt?”

“Harry,” Annaliese whispers. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He stops, though he has several more things to say. 

Annaliese looks up at him after a moment. “Will you sit?”

He does, towel still in hand. She looks at it, and then goes back to her soup until it’s finished, and she’s setting it aside. Annaliese has more water, and then she reaches for her medicine.

Harry beats her to it. He unscrews the top, pours a healthy bit into the tablespoon and then carries it over to her mouth. The dread is in her eyes, and she makes a face as she swallows it. Harry doesn’t realize he has a ghostly smile on his face until he’s putting the spoon down, watching her take several more gulps of water.

“I hate that taste more than anything,” Annaliese says.

“I know,” Harry answers softly, because he does.

Her jaw tenses, eyes glazed over with an expression Harry doesn’t have the capability to fully understand, and she slides down against the mattress, her head against the pillow. With her knees drawn up, they touch Harry’s thighs, and the briefest contact makes him yearn to feel the real touch of his wife. She closes her eyes, hands under her chin.

Her skin is still pale, her lower lip trembling with fever, and every part of him hurts knowing he can’t lay in bed with her and nurse her back to health. The reminder of his vows again deliver a swift punch to his gut, and emotion makes his throat close. The love he feels for her is binding, suffocating, and the pull to give in is so urgent, it’s a wonder that he keeps himself upright instead of draping his body over hers.

Annaliese doesn’t ask him to do anything more either.

So he takes a deep breath, rolls up the towel a bit better and then carefully lays it against her hairline. She shifts to let him adjust it better, lets him pull the covers over her bare shoulder to shield her from the cold and also to get the idea of kissing her burning skin out of his head.

It goes without saying, but he says it anyway. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Annaliese nods once, eyes still shut.

He wonders if she’s upset with him. The thought of disappointing her makes him want to double over with anger at himself.

He's entirely pathetic. How dare he think he can keep his wife satisfied.

As he’s exiting her room, he passes by the dresser. On it, more framed photos sit. Some from their wedding, some of their families. The picture that rests on her side table once sat with the rest on her dresser. He wonders when she brought that one closer to her. If she looks at it every night before she goes to sleep, every morning when she wakes. If she holds it under her pillow or her cheek to have him right beside her. If she stains the glass with her tears.

Harry turns his head to look at Annaliese once more. She’s asleep, and though she’s fed and being brought back to good health, Harry has never felt more of a failure in his life.

He shuts the door behind him when he leaves, puts the dishes in the sink, and then goes to his room wishing Annaliese would rip the bandaid off and find someone better for herself.

[tmwcs]

hi can you do a heethan reaction to reader wearing a pheromones perfume ; ( well actually she was oblivious about it since it was her friends suggestions . )

"Sweet Venom."

Warnings: the usual, dub-con smut, heethan goes feral (more so than usual) and reader is kind of being a dumb tease, unprotected smut, breeding kink, pet names, 😉 enjoy. Since i am dedicating alot of hours ths week to catch up on asks, none of these will be proof read. So ignore all mistakes, trying not have yo guys wait any longer than you already have.

"what the-"

He sniffs the air, overfilling his coffee cup. The lack of awareness has caused him to discontinue his usual routine and, instead, search for the source of this vibrant scent that has his whole hearted attention.

Where is it coming from?

Coincidently, you show up just as the scent was becoming intense. "Good morning babe." you express with a voice that chimed through the room like a warm toned bell ring.

"Is that you?"

You look up to see a wide eye'd heethan staring at you. Not heeseug. Not ethan. Heethan.

His expression was a crossover between intrigue, wonderment, and rage. His breathing escalated; chest heaved deeper as his shoulders propped up, look fiercely broader than normal. If you didn't know any better, you would say that there was a slight bit of drool seeping out from the corner of his mouth. "What?" you ask shyly.

"You know damn well what....it is you. Dont fucking play dumb. What did you do?"

"i didn't do anythi-"

"your fucking perfume, y/n!"

the level of his voice rising startled you. He closes the distance and punches the wall as he corners you against his chest, forcing you to lean against the smooth plastered surface. "I...it's a new perfume."

"What are you doing to me?" the iris in his eyes shrink, his nostrils flaring. He clenches his fist tighter, causing his knuckles to scrape against the cracked wall. "I'm not doing anything. Its a new perfume i just wanted to try it out and--ah!"

he grabs a fistfull of your blouse, clumping the soft fabric as he pulls you in. Swirling you around, he leans you over the kitchen island, tearing your skirt off, panties too.

"where the fuck is it coming from?" he grits out as he begins to aggressively sniff over the back of your shoulders, neck, waist, and over your buttocks. had you known his reaction as going to be this detrimental, you wouldn't have sprayed the scent all over your body, including the crevice of your inner thigh to your vaginal lips.

He rubs his nose and drags it against your skin. His lips forming a tight grit, allowing for the surface of his teeth to scrape against you while a firm hand planted on your lower back keeps you steady against the ledge of the counter. "Fuck....you sprayed it over here? what the fuck, y/n." you couldn't tell if he was angry or just fueling with sexual hunger as the scent became stronger. a sharp bite to the back of your thigh told you it may have been both. "ah! that hurts! don't bite too hard, please!"

he ignores your pleas and continues to bite down, this time on your inner thigh, and touched up with a harsh suckling that surely would leave a hickey over the bite mark. "Heeseung! Ethan! wait!"

he migrates his suckling offense over to the plush lips that cradles your clitoral slit. without any warning, he jams a finger inside, licking the tender spot between your two entrances. his motions were tender and passionate, causing his nose to move close and poke against your anal opening. "Stop! Heeseung!"

the moment you jolted, his hand pushes your forcibly down, practically pinching your waist against the counter edge. "stay fucking still." he speaks against your clitoris, and the sensation of it made you obey. God...you dont want to say it, but you wish he would speak against it once more.

"P-please...not so rough.." you spoke out, knowing that the false pretense of your words would rattle his cage even more. "you like it when i go rough."

your thighs shake as you relish in victory of having him speak against your swollen clit. Sensing the pleasure within you, he takes the hint and continues. "you're leaking, y/n."

"mmhmm...." you wave the white flag as you humbled out an admission of guilt with a small nod. on propped elbows, you arch your back, allowing for your fully glory to bask in the wide open for his face to dig into. "yeah...you fucking know it too, dont you?"

you nod once more at his antics. the sound of his voice was angry. "fucking little tease."

a harsh sting makes its way to every single nerve point in your lower half. Did he just slap your rear end?

"H-Heeseung!"

he slaps it again. and again. it was something that he has, on countless occasions, said he'd never do since slapping assess were meant for cattle, and you were above that sort of treatment. He'd slap your breasts, waist, and used two fingers to lightly slap your jaw at times, during the heat of passion, but never your rear end.

"see what you did, y/n? see what you let loose? stick it up in the air right now!"

each slap follows his words as he continues his passionate assault and makes his demand. You obey willingly, yearning for more of his aggression. just as you didn't think he could get anymore irrisistable he tells you...

"mating season is on. spread your fucking legs and get fucked, y/n."

his large foot shoves in between your feet and he lightly kicks your ankles apart. you hear his belt unbuckle; the unzipping of his jeans made you drool this time. your breasts mashes against the cold counter tile as he rolls up your blouse to expose them. his strong hands grab on to your mid-back, while his stiff muscle feeds its way in between your rear cheeks. taking advantage of your leakage, he lubes it up nicely as he strokes in between the smooth crevice, watching as his shaft rubs against your taint. it was enough to coat it until it glistened and shined like a marble statue. "beg for it, you sexy bitch."

his harsh words made you clench and pulsate. "oh please....please baby....please fuck me. i want it, please...."

"does my pretty little doe give up?"

"yes!"

"my pretty little doe love her buck?"

"yes yes!"

leaning over, his chest pressed against your back, he bends along your body, lips touching your ear. "say it."

you whine in slight confusion. "You know what i mean, y/n."

you cave in upon taking his strategic hint. "Bambi....please fuck me bambi-boy!"

"fuck yeah." he breathes out as he jams himself in. your hip bone slaps against the edge repeatedly when he kept moving them back and forth, all in relation to the momentum of his thrusts. "oh! my! god! bambi!" you scream out.

"louder!" his breath hitches as you clench down.

"bambi!"

"Fucking louder!" his tone raises in volume, reflecting the breach of his release as he relentlessly fucks a new path inside your gut.

"BAMBI!!!"

"Oh fuck!" you gasps out as he picks up an inhuman pace. His thrusts become sloppy and carry less rhythm as he slides in and out fast. the slushing sound of his shaft feeding your opening was enough to make you release. the overwhelming of peak tingle robs you of all your other senses as you feel the thick circumference of his shaft being wrapped by your walls. the bulging tip squeezes against your soft spot, spewing out the clear, slick liquid each time. his thumbs swipe over your lower back repeatedly as his hands firmly grip onto your waist, making you absorb the impact of his balls slamming into the small bit of taint exposed. his fingernails dig into your skin, twitching as he comes closer to release. at that moment, he shifts his placement of grip, and leans down to embrace your entire waistline with his arms. Pulling you back a bit, you inherit a higher propped position as you rest against your palms, standing nearly upright with a slight arch curving along your spine. he was going so fast, you swore you saw stars bursting before you. "right....fucking....there!" he grits his teeth against your neck and finally...

you scream out as you feel the sudden pullback. with his arms wrapped around you, it allowed him to gain leverage in suspending you in mid-air as he came inside. Your feet dangle above ground as you faintly bend forward at the waist as a reactive motion from how hard his arms were squeezing you. the tingling sensation was so strong, it made your toes curl. you so badly wanted for them to touch the ground but he took his time to release deep inside you, keeping you up as he did so. the unbearable feeling of not being able to grip onto anything as the sensation throbbed inside as painful, yet the prickling orgasm made it worth the while, as did your muscles repeatedly clenching around his thickness. "ah! oh my god!" you tune out in a melody that was music to his ears. "yeah...sing for me baby."

you let out a prolonged moan as you shake and rattle. cumming with him inside you, was undoubtedly the best feeling in the world. "im cumming! im cumming!" you let out in the same tune that he loves to hear.

"good....fucking....girl." keeping you levitated, he bounces you in sync with each word as he forces you to drain him dry, and swallow it all within your stained womb.

you both catch your breath for a minute-or two. finally as the sweat beads dry up, and the musky moisture evaporates from your skin, his voices reflects its normal inflection as he asks you...

"what kind of perfume was that, pretty?"

you lay over the counter, limp and fuck-beaten beyond repair. "sweet venom...by enhypen."

"I dig the name. put some more on before we leave, please baby?"

your eyes widen. he couldn't be serious. "but-" you grew startled upon feeling a hand shoot around and grab your neck. pulling you up and away from the counter, you turn to face a familiar countenance, one that was dark and full of malice, and sense of sexual rage that was much darker and vicious than before.

Ethan...

"I said...fucking please."

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /five/ Azriel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

They came not an hour later. You hid in your rooms like the coward you accused Tamlin of being. They didn’t put up a fight as Amerantha’s men, Rhys included, hauled them off towards the mountain. It left you in a state of dismay. Because with Tamlin gone, and the Faebane slowly leaving your system, there was no reason for you to stay here in Spring. You could easily run back to the night court and hide in one of the cabins your family owned. You could easily hide in the mountains and pray that one day Amerantha would meet her match. 

Only you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. One day you tried, only to turn and vomit in the rose bushes. You then turned around and went back to your rooms and crawled under your covers. You stayed there and didn’t move for the rest of the day. 

On the third day, Feyre showed back up. Much to your surprise, claiming to love Tamlin and willing to go under the mountain to save him. You rolled your eyes, but knew that love well. Because you would have given your wings if it meant seeing Az again. 

“She’ll kill you,” You say from your spot at the kitchen doors, “The second she realizes you’re there, she’ll kill you. But she’ll draw it out, make it slow and painful.”

“Not helping,” Alis hissed at you. 

“Who are you?” Feyre whips to face you. 

You only smirk, “A friend. That’s all you need to know. Rhys might be your only hope.” 

“Rhysand is a brute.”

“Perhaps,” You shrug, “But he wants out from under Amerantha as much as the next, only he has the power to make it happen.”

“What are you saying?” She questions. 

“If he comes to you with a bargain, take it,” You tell her, “It could just save your life. Play his games, it might just save you from hers.” 

“Don’t be a fool,” Alis said, “Don’t make any bargains.”

“Fine then, die and damn us all.”

“Why are you trying to help me?” Feyre asks. 

“Because, dear human, I want to go home,” you said almost wistfully, “And I can’t as long as that bitch is in power.” 

“Where is home for you?” 

“The Night Court. But I’ve been held here for hundreds of years.” 

“How old are you?” Her voice shook as she asked. 

You only laughed and shook your head, “My age is of no concern to you. I’m not even sure I know it anymore anyway.”

Alis sighs from behind Feyre and gathers some supplies. you  watch her carefully, wondering if she’s eager to send the poor human to her death, or if she hates the idea as much as you do. But you can only hope that Rhys will help her in any way that he can. You can only hope that he wants out as much as you think he does. 

“If you ever feel alone, look towards the shadows,” You explain, “I’m not promising I’ll be there. But if I feel I can risk it-” 

“Now that would be foolish,” Alis adds. 

“Thank you, Alis,” I hiss back, “You should go, now. Mother knows what that Bitch has done to your precious Tamlin.”

The idea of him getting his happy ending made you sick again. The idea of him being able to be happy when he’s caused so much suffering….you almost couldn’t handle it. But if this meant Rhys and the other members of the Night Court could be free then you had to allow it to happen. You had to try to aid the young girl in any way that you could. 

“Stick to the shadows,” You tell her, “You won’t get far once you enter, but always listen. And keep your wits about you.”

“Thank you,” She said in earnest. 

You watched from the broken front door as Alis led her away. You weren’t sure you’d ever see the human again, but you weren’t sad to see her go. It felt like leading a lamb to the slaughter, but it had to be done. There wasn’t another choice. Not if you wanted to survive, not if you wanted everyone to be free again. 

Each day you flung your powers out further and further, urging your shadows just a little further. They whispered back to you, telling you of what was happening under the mountain. How Feyre was dying, sick with fever and how Rhys came forth with a bargain. She headed your advice and took the bargain, marking her with a tattoo and a bond with Rhys. 

Each day you tried to find a way to contact your brother, but you knew you couldn’t risk it. There was no way you could reach his mind from so far away, not with the lingering effects of years of Faebane still in your system. 

You prayed that maybe Feyre would tell him about you and he would figure it out for himself and come for you once all of this was over. You prayed and prayed. There was nothing but silence. No news came. Your shadows were skittish, growing restless waiting for Amerantha to do something. 

You lost weight from not eating. The lack of food would kill you eventually, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. If Valaris parished and there was nothing left of the people you called family- no one left but Rhys who thought you were dead anyway…would death be so bad? It could all be over finally, and maybe the Mother would be so kind as to bring you back to Az in the next life. 

Three months. A mere blip in your young life, but feeling like a lifetime nonetheless. It took three long months before you saw three figures coming up the road. They were moving fast, all three of them. Feyre, it seemed, was no longer human. Your shadows neglected to tell you that when they said she’d survived and Amerantha did not. 

You made your way downstairs, towards the door which you’d managed to somewhat fix. None of them looked worse for wear, but you knew whatever Feyre had been through would stay with her for a long time. And Tamlin had the ornate ability to simply sweep things under the rug and forget about them. He would do the same with her. 

She looked High Fae, smelled like it too. With traces of my brother. So small, almost undetectable, but there. Shimmering like the bond you knew they had. You wondered when he would call in his bargain, when he would take her away from this place and show her the splendor of the Night Court, the beauty of it. 

“You’re still here,” Tamlin stopped, a scowl forming, “I set you free.”

“You set me free, perhaps, but I would have died before I made it back to my own Court. Safer to stay here until I could contact my brother.”

“That won’t be happening,” Tamlin said slyly, “Feyre, darling, why don’t you go inside with Lucien. I’ll be inside in a moment.”

Your eyes narrowed as she did as she was told. Lucien spared you a glance, pity swirling in his eye. It made a pit form in your stomach. You wouldn’t be leaving the Spring Court, you realized. You would be forced to stay here until the day you died, or until Tamlin finally decided to kill you. 

Maybe you would make it your mission to push him as far as you could so he would kill you. Maybe then you could finally know peace, and not whatever it was that you knew now. 

“I thought I was going to free you,” Tamlin took a step towards you, “But then your brother made that Bargain with Feyre, and made me look like a fool under the mountain.” 

“So once again, I’m to become your bargaining chip?” I question, “What? Me for Feyre?” 

“Perhaps.”

“I could mist you,” You hiss. 

“Ah, but you can’t,” Tamlin laughs, “Because even after all this time, the Faebane is still in your system. You can’t even winnow, because if you could, you would’ve left by now.” 

He surges forward and grips your cheeks in his hand. You yelp in pain before going completely still. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, or anything. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of it. 

“You, little one, are going to be here for a very long time,” He squeezed your face harder, “And I’m going to enjoy finally breaking you.”

Little did he know, you were already broken. 

“Go to hell,” You spit out. 

“I was already there,” He smirked, “It didn’t take.” 

“He’ll kill you once he finds out,” You force out, “And I’ll watch and laugh.” 

“I’m counting on him trying.”

Tag List

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[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, the world was a small, uncomplicated place. Mom and Dad don't have much money to travel abroad and their jobs only allow for little leisure, so the furthest vacation spot is a beach four hours' drive from your home city. School fills your days with lessons, friends, and the promise of weekend sleepovers. Every day, you stroll down the same street and greet your neighbors by name. Happiness was as close as your mother's freshly baked blueberry pie.

But now? When your world becomes wider and the reach of your hand becomes longer, it seems that happiness finds further hiding places. It grieves you that childhood was too brief; that bubble of safety from the world's woes and tribulations burst before you could even appreciate it.

The five-year-old you looked in the mirror, twisting your tiny feet to see the new shoes from all angles. Despite your repeated protests that you preferred the blue one, your mother purchased the bright pink one—she said it matched her favorite dress, and mother knows best, so you don't have to bother thinking about what you wanted. You shrugged to yourself; at least it's better than your old one.

Walking down the hall, you found your father. He's not in his usual play clothes – he's dressed for work, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "My little princess, you look so pretty!"

You beamed at his praise, chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing makes your heart sing like Dad's smile. You spin around like a princess in a fairy tale, showing off your shoes by stomping gently on the wooden surface.

“Mom bought it for me. It's not blue, but I like it!”

Dad chuckled. “Well, at least she spent my money on my favorite girl.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, your lunch bag in hand. “I saw them on sale at the store and just knew they'd be perfect for school,” she says proudly. Your father turned to you, opening his mouth to say something but, Mother interrupted. “We'd better get going or she'll be late for class.”

Dad sighs, mumbling a “yes, I know,” and kneels to sweep you into a tight hug. Your secret handshake is special – finger guns with “pew pew” noises, then knuckles bumping before more hugs and kisses. Your mother rolled her fondly eyes. “You two are always conspiring, sharing your little secrets. Now say goodbye, Daddy has to get to work."

You dislike it when Dad has to leave for work—in fact, you prefer him to Mom. But, Mom said he had to go or else there would be no food on the table for dinner; Besides, Daddy will definitely come back home and you can play with him again. You waved, forcing a smile to look as happy as possible.

"Bye, Daddy!"

"See you soon, princess." With a wave of his hand, your father answered and vanished behind the wooden door.

As Daddy's car pulls away from the curb, you hear Mom walking over to where the car keys are kept. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but that strange tightness in your chest persists—one that usually occurs when it's just Mom and you. She opened the door and told you to go to the car. You followed her in silence, eyes fixed on the pattern on your new pink shoes.

Sliding into the backseat, you peer out the window. The car engine started, and the radio played the same playlist. You watch the buildings and trees move backward. Mom glances at you in the rearview mirror and corrects you about your slumped posture, saying it's an ugly look for a young lady. You sat up straight in your chair and muttered an apology. Satisfied, your mother returned her attention to the road.

Secretly, you wish it could be your dad driving you to school instead. He's more fun, telling silly stories to make you laugh, and doesn't mind your messy crayons or clothes that don't match perfectly. Your mother always finds fault with anything that is unclean or out of place.

Looking up at the clear sky, you hope the sun will soon be above, indicating that lunchtime is approaching. Lunchtime means it's a few hours until sundown, and dinner will soon be served.  You want to quickly see Dad and hear whatever stories he has during the day—that is, if he comes home. Lately, work has been keeping him from home more and more. However, if he's too busy, then tomorrow will do—Sunday sounds fun. He never missed a Sunday with you.

The weekend comes quickly, and you can barely contain your excitement when Dad takes you to the park Sunday morning. You walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalk, you chat a mile a minute about school. Laughter and barking greeted you both.

A fluffy golden retriever catches your eye, and you tug Daddy's hand, pointing excitedly. “Can we get a puppy, Daddy? Please? I'd take such good care of it, I promise!”

Your father chuckled, then shook his head. “You know how your mother feels about furry friends making a mess in the house.”

Disappointed, you scruff your shoes in the dirt. Dad never refuses what you want, no matter how ridiculous it is, unless it contradicts Mom. Unfortunately, the majority of what you desire is always something your mother despises. You continue walking.

Then he points – an ice cream cart! “Can I have one?” You ask, only to remember. "Mom said no sweets before dinner."

Dad crouches to meet your downcast eyes. “But Mom's not here. And you and me, we're partners in crime, right? I won't tell if you won't. What do you say we keep our sweet treat just between us?”

Gasping for joy, bubbles of laughter escaped your lips. "Okay!" Dad got you cones, of course, chocolate ones, and you swung your clasped hands and gawked at all the colorful, melted options. There's no better way to spend a Sunday than taking a stroll with Dad in the sunshine.

Monday night, however, was spent with you lying in bed with a fever ravaging your little body. Through the haze, you hear raised voices carrying down the hall—Mom scolding Dad for letting you have that ice cream.

“I can't believe you disobeyed me, Peter! One ice cream and now she's sick as a dog.” Her shrill voice pierces your pounding head.

“C'mon Anna, the girl's allowed a treat now and then.” Dad's calmer rumble does little to quell your mother's fury.

“If you'd listened to me from the start, this never would've happened. But you always think you know best.” Their arguing grows more heated, and you curl into a tight ball, wishing you could disappear.

Your mother's booming footsteps grew farther away as their conversations ceased. You open your eyes. When your door creaks and you turn around, the light from the corridor peeks through a tiny opening, and your father's form fills the frame. He sits next to you with a strained, contrite expression on his face.

“Hey, honey,” he started. “I'm sorry our secret got out. Mom's just worried about you being sick.”

You try to smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’okay, Daddy.” You said, and he stroked your damp hair tenderly; concern etched deep.

“Jesus, you're burning up. How about a story to take your mind off feeling bad?”

As if on cue, you remember – “The Nutcracker, please!”

With a kind grin, your father got up to get the cherished book. He takes a seat next to you, acts puzzled as he flips through a book and clears his throat.

"Now let's see, how did this story go again?" You chuckled at his attempt to divert your attention from your fever.

Soon later, he starts reading aloud with a low, comfortable voice. Sometimes, he stumbles over long words or loses his place, but each time he simply smiles sheepishly before continuing on. His favorite part is the dialogue, as he frequently adopts a different voice to portray different characters. You find yourself entranced, following each magical adventure.

For a little while, you can forget about the uncomfortable heat covering your body and Mom's angry shouts. In these quiet moments with your father, nothing else matters but his gentle company. In this once kinder world, he is still your father and you are still his favorite daughter—his one and only. Even if getting an ice cream is what makes you sick, you would do it all over again just to share this time with him.

By the story's end, your eyelids grow heavy enough, but not quite heavy. Dad chuckled, closing the book. “Still awake, little love? You must be feeling better.”

Your lips curve into a smile, glazed eyes glistening as flushed cheeks rise. “Mom signed me up for ballet classes,” you mumble sleepily.

A gasp escaped his lips, his forehead shot upwards emphasizing the already existing wrinkles. He looked at you with irises the same color as yours. You chuckle from his reaction, but your smile fades when his features swim and blur before you like figures in a dream. His gaze was always so kind, looks darker than you recall. Stubble shadows his jaw. When he smiles now, it doesn't reach as far.

He said your name—but it sounded foreign, it felt wrong. Why can't you see him clearly anymore?

“My little princess, you’re going to be the greatest ballet dancer the world has ever seen.” You wanted to answer, to hold this moment with him forever; but heavy eyelids won the battle and ultimately dragged you down. As the darkness enveloped you, Dad's hazy face was the last thing on your mind.

Thin curtains block the dreary morning light as you begin your daily ritual of waking up. The city has just woken up below; fog still hangs on the streets of London as you pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under your feet.

Filling the kettle, you set it to boil and retrieve your favorite chipped mug from the shelf. Your hand reaches for a packet of instant grounds—two scoops of it go inside, followed by a splash of cream. After lifting the whistling kettle, you poured in the boiling water slowly before taking a tea spoon to stir. The sound of the drizzle striking the glass was amplified by the apartment's quiet, and a small clink! sound is added each time your spoon meets your porcelain mug.

Lifting the mug, you breathe deep its comforting aroma before taking a careful sip, sighing as warmth spreads through your body. Coffee in hand, you turn to the task of packing your bag, put the essentials: water bottle, warm up shorts, warm up sweater, leg warmers, two pointe shoes, skirts, and a pouch containing deodorant, hair spray, comb, pins , and band aids.

Feeling quite satisfied, you finish your coffee and rinse the mug before leaving it to dry. You go shower and do your skincare routine. Pulling out your clothes drawer, you retrieve the leotard and tights, sliding the familiar fabrics over still-damp limbs.

Before the full-length mirror, you start to stretch. First position – feet turned out, heels together, arms graceful at your sides. Middle split – breathe in, reach for your toes, feel the burn in your thighs. Forward fold, palms flat on the floor, spine lengthening. After feeling warmed up for the day, you slowly got up and grabbed your bag towards the door.

The city was already starting to get busy, with the hustle and bustle of commuters making their way to work. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafting through the air. You quickened your footsteps on the cobblestone streets.

When the train door opens, you rush out, clutching your bag tight. Racing up the stairs, you burst through the exit and meet the cold air from the rain. You rubbed your hands against your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Overhead, heavy clouds hung low. You set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

But, as your building comes into view, you slow down—memories from last night fill your head. It was just here—under the awnings of that little café—that you first took shelter from the rain with him.

Simon. His name whispers through your mind like fog swirling around lampposts. If only the place was still open, maybe you would come in for a sweet warm drink instead of that crowded pub. Must've been nice, you think—it must've been nice to chat between sweets, enveloped in comfort that stretches time to be longer. Maybe he won't be so guarded and you'll get more than a name and a job—a promise to meet tomorrow at breakfast, for example.

Realizing you had completely stopped walking, you shook your head as embarrassment settled on your cheeks. Why do you dwell on such fantasies? Despite his kindness, Simon is just a stranger with just a name, one of many faces in this city that you will never meet again.

With a sigh, you continued your walk and disappeared behind the large doors of the opera.

The heavy doors creaked open as you pushed inside, warmth enveloping your cold body. Long hallway echoed with the conversation of the dancers who had arrived, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor while exchanging a joke or two with each other. You turn into the dressing room. Hanging up your coat, you saw a familiar sight—girls chatting and gossiping as they got ready.

You sat down at one of the dressers, placing your duffel bag at your feet. The sound of a zipper being opened sounded in the air; you bent down and reached for your pouch. Then, you pull out your trusty lip balm before applying it to your lips and gently massaging in the colorless formula.

Just then, a girl came and stopped at the door frame, panting. “It's up! The casting announcement is on the board!”

Squeals of excitement and joy were heard as they rushed to see who got what role. You hurriedly closed your balm, returned it to the pouch before getting up from the chair following the others. They had gathered at the end of the hall, jostling to see a piece of paper stuck to the board.

Air fills your lungs slowly when you inhale. It felt like your hammering heart was going to drop to your stomach as your legs started to swing. The pessimistic side of you says to turn around—why bother? It said tauntingly, you know which role you ended up having. But the hopeful side—the little girl still full of dreams stored somewhere in your ribs—insisted on peering and feeling.

As you stepped into the crowd of dancers, they turned around and some started smiling at you. One of them, Jasmine, approached you after calling your name.

“You did it! You got the role!”

As she hugged you, you scanned down the long list. Your eyes freeze on the main role. The Swan Queen. Beside it is printed in big black letters, your name. The Swan Queen.

You detach yourself from Jasmine's embrace, muttering excuses as you flee down the hall to the toilet. Step by step opening each stall to make sure the space is totally empty, you then lock yourself in one of them and sink into the closed toilet lid. Your mind is racing with a plethora of feelings as your eyes are fixed on the sections of tile plaque.

Joy, pride, disbelief... But underneath it all lies a hollow ache you can't place. Why? Isn't this what you've always wanted, to to become more than just another dancer in the group, to stop at precisely the thirteenth, and somehow take on the role of the Swan Queen—the one who shines the most on stage? Perhaps it's the self-conscious part of you, believing that the director must have made a mistake and mistook you for someone else.

Or perhaps this emptiness was once occupied by the never-ending quest for approval. In truth, that person no longer exists; you have no one left to tell this good news to. The chairs in the crowd were empty.

The cost of keeping everyone at a distance, indeed.

You clutch on your leotard, the fabric wrinkling in your tight grip. Gazing up at the ceiling and inhaling again, you make the decision to push up on unsteady legs and get out of the stall.

The hallway seems louder than before. Every footstep and whisper amplified in your mind, eyes tracking you as you pass—all judging, wondering. A flush creeps up your neck. You speed up your steps, hoping to quickly get out from under their scrutinizing gaze. However, no matter how hard you try, your ears cannot be deafened by the snatches of hushed conversation that follow.

“Can't believe they chose her; she's so soulless on stage.” Your throat constricts, and your hands are clenched into pale fists.

Claudine's piercing stare cuts through the crowd as your eyes meet. She rakes her gaze over you slowly, as if trying to decipher what the director found so special. You lowered your eyes, hurriedly passing to the safety of the empty dressing room. Grabbing your bag with shaky hands, you flee once more to the practice studio, desperate to lose their judgment.

The studio door's knob turned, and as you pushed slightly to get a glimpse inside, the hinges creaked. With the coach and pianist, the director was engaged in a serious discussion. He gives you a quick glance and gestures for you to enter.

“(Y/N), it's so wonderful to have you here. I know this role is in excellent hands with you.” His kind words did little to calm your fraying nerves, but you took the crumbs of his appreciation.

More dancers arrive behind you, their excited chatter filling the hallway. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of familiar faces: Jasmine, Sophia, Eloise, long-faced Marie—surely she's not used to not being the main star, and you feel like you've taken her place even though you're not good enough. You swallow hard and turn back, placing your duffel bag in the studio's corner.

The director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. “Bravo to each of you for earning these coveted roles through your talent and dedication. Now, let us begin our work to bring Tchaikovsky's magic to life for our audiences. Places everyone, we'll start from the beginning!”

Your shoulders rise as you inhale a deep breath. Swan Lake. First time becoming the Swan Queen.

Does the director know that his gaze carries a heavy weight? The more sighs he lets out, the more you suffocate, as if the air has been tainted with butane and you've reached the vertigo stage. His eyes followed your every move, but it was his lips that showed dissatisfaction. Something isn't up to his expectations, and it's not the techniques and poses your ballet teacher has been drilling you in since childhood. You are deficient in something that you are unaware of.

The director calls to a halt, praising and giving notes to the other dancers before turning to you. You brace yourself with a deep breath.

“Your technique is truly flawless as always. But I wonder, could you try injecting just a bit more... feeling?” he began. “You portray her innocence and loneliness beautifully. But what is missing is the glimmer of hope she finds in Prince Siegfried's promise to free her.”

Hope? The girl had lived most of her life as a swan; what silly hope did she still have and seek in a man? As if their hearts have the ability to keep a promise. Swan Lake wouldn't be Swan Lake without the prince declaring his love for another woman and Odette jumping off the cliff from the realization that her dreams had ended in vain. Is it not more fitting that she feels only emptiness—the result of years of loneliness leeching any warmth or longing from her soul?

You tell yourself that, if not merely to cover up your poor performance. The director is many years older than you and has directed and seen many ballets throughout his life. If anyone knows how to bring a character to life, it's him.

It begs the question, though, of whether a cursed being like her seems capable of wishing for miracles or fairy tale things like love. Can a withered flower, beaten down by countless rains, still hold the memory of the sun in its crumpled petals?

“I'll do better.” You said.

The director gives a pitying smile; you felt small beneath him. “Good.” Then raising his voice, “Well done everyone today. Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow fresh!"

Snatching up your bag, you rush towards the exit before anyone can speak to you. With your head down, you push through the doors and into the night. Breathing in trembling, you let your legs carry you down the well-known pavement. The sights and sounds of bustling London blur around you.

You shouldn't have believed that girl. You shouldn't have given that dreamy girl the chance to lead a version of herself that has grown far beyond her—because you know her judgment means nothing, just a limited view of the world through rose-tinted glasses. She is that way because a liar once said that she would make a great ballet dancer, and she stuck to it like a devoted disciple to the words of her God.

It was stupid, perhaps a misplaced self-confidence. With your every step, the negative voices in your mind grow louder, jeering relentlessly at your foolishness. This was a mistake from the start. As if you could ever do Odette justice. Best tell him you're stepping down; let Claudine or Marie have the role they deserve. Your heart is heavy, weighing you down to the floor. 

You almost pass by without noticing, but there, through the haze, glows the warm orange light of that pub. The one Simon and you ducked into that stormy night, where you shared pleasantries over pints of bitter. As you watch the door open and close for the newcomers, you halt.

You're not sure which Satan incited. But when you push open the pub door, warmth immediately envelopes you, scents of ale and smoke mingling with the bustle of chatter. A lively folk tune played on the sound system as patrons laughed together in the booths and around the bar. Steeling yourself, you approached awkwardly.

The bartender looked up, his eyes widening briefly before his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. "Well hello gorgeous, what can I get for ya?"

Warmth floods your cheeks and you shift from foot to foot. “Um, do you have anything non-alcoholic?” You said, awkward voice breaking easily. Why did you come in here again?

He raised an eyebrow but maintained a friendly smile. “Sure do, love. Give me a mo.” As he turns around to prepare your drink, you glance around helplessly.

Faces blurred in the dim light—all engaged in lively conversation. You sit alone at the bar like you're waiting for a friend while watching everyone else meet theirs. A feeling of loneliness overtakes you – what were you thinking coming here?

Bartender returns, sliding your drink across with a wink. “On the house. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”

Giving a mumbled thanks, you take a sip acting busy. As you sit alone nursing your drink, you believe you understand why. Deep down, beneath all the self-doubt and shame, is a glimmer of truth you loath to admit – you desperately seek companionship, if only for a moment.

And the only person close enough for you to consider a friend is a masked stranger you will never see again. That's pathetic; you're pathetic. Clinging to the irrational part to watch Simon walk through that door. He claims he's a regular here—his “I'm here often enough” seems to make you hold out for the chance of running into him again.

Twenty minutes pass in a haze, and Simon still hasn't appeared. Maybe he's not a regular after all. You finally glance at your phone—it's time for your usual subway.

Signaling the bartender, you place some cash on the bar as a tip. “Thanks again,” you murmur, then gather your coat and slip out into the chill night.

“Sorry,” you mumble when you bump into a figure about to enter.

“No worries, love,” a British-accented voice replies smoothly, and you glance up, thinking it's someone. A stranger—tall, broad shoulders, but not Simon. Perfectly coiffed hair and skin as smooth as porcelain. He shot a charming smile at you. “Off somewhere?”

Instantly on alert, your eyes start looking for a way to get away from him. “Just heading home, thanks.”

Making a sidestep, his arms extended to block your path. Your mind's alarm goes off. His gaze burned as it swept over you, lingering in places it had no right to be before he licked his lips. You felt a cold sweat run down your back.

“Don't be like that, darling. I just want to chat. Buy you a drink, maybe?” His smile grows, and the sick glint in his eyes shows how much it amuses him to see you trembling.

“Sorry, I—”

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested, mate.”

A gruff, familiar voice cuts through the haze. You whip your head around to see Simon standing there. His face is half obscured by his black mask, but you'll recognize that steel gaze everywhere. For some reason, your heart gradually calms down in your ribs.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other asked angrily, puffing up his chest. A daring move, you think. His too-tight t-shirt reveals his consistent gym muscles, but if Simon is his opponent, you can be sure he's no match.

“Just not a fan of creeps harassing women. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off before I make you.” Simon threatened.

The color drains from the guy's face when he sees Simon's seriousness. He walked away, swallowing his wounded pride with a huff. The pressure recedes from your rigid frame as you watch the figure leave before turning to Simon.

"You hurt at all?" he asked, doing a scan of you to check for himself.

You shake your head, then manage a shaky “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Simon looked at you, then looked behind you towards the pub. When he turns back to you, his eyebrows raise slightly questioningly.

“You were in there your own?”

The warmth from his question traveled across your cheeks, striking a contrast with the night breeze. You didn't dare to meet his eyes, choosing to settle on your shoes instead. Despite having come here just to meet him, feeling under his judgment is like getting a shot of adrenaline into your legs—so much so that you want to run to get away from him.

“I, um…” Words fail you beneath your embarrassment.

How pathetic you must look—a lone girl nursing a drink with no companions, seeking solace in other people's conversations. You can't, however, just reveal your total lack of friends. Your mind searched frantically for a convincing reason.

“Just… needed to clear my head after a long day of practice. Thought the atmosphere might help.”

Even to your own ears, the lie falls flat. You didn't know if Simon noticed. Though you're pitiful, he doesn't furrow his brow or look at you that way. He asks no questions at all, not even about poor attempts at lying, and he doesn't press people on matters they would rather leave unsaid. Simon doesn't pry; you think that's his good quality.

Simon looked up at the dark sky instead. “Getting late, this is. I'll walk you to the tube.” He nodded, gesturing down the empty sidewalk.

Thick clouds rolled low. The two of you make your way towards the subway station, passing one by one the buildings constructed from buff-colored brick. Simon is striding beside you, his long legs eating up the pavement with ease. Secretly, you steal glances at his broad figure against the lamplight. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulders under his leather jacket—the way it molds into muscular arms.

This is different from your first meeting. There's no need now for nervous small talk to fill the quiet; you're not much of a talker, and Simon also finds more peace in silence.

Simon's presence feels more companionable than awkward. Warmth bloomed in your ribs as your lips curled into a small smile before it disappeared again. You both walk in wordless sync before you become bored and break it.

“I didn't really expect to see you again.”

Simon glances down at you, his brows quirking questioningly. Did you sound ungrateful? You rush to explain. “I mean, it was all like a chance thing, running into each other like that. Figured it was just... a one-time thing, you know?”

He thought about your words for a moment. “Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Up ahead, the glow of the station sign begins to appear. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly slowed down your pace, but you made sure it was unnoticeable. Your journey's end draws near, but you hope this togetherness can last longer.

Summoning your courage, you try, “Were you meeting someone at the pub? Before…” Your words trail off, but he seems to understand.

“Nah, wasn't meeting anyone,” he said casually. “Just fancied a drink, is all.”

You nodded, acting satisfied, but actually feeling a little disappointed. It seemed that he was in fact a frequent visitor, coming and going on any given evening; it was just for a drink, like before he met you. Meanwhile, you cling to the prospect of another chance to meet like a lifeline. As the station came into full view, your eyes fell, brewing more embarrassment and desperation in your stomach. Maybe he has someone waiting for him. What were you thinking, letting yourself hope?

Yet, though small, the rebellious part of you refuses to let this end.

"What do you usually drink?" You ask again, grasping for any excuse to extend your time, no matter how little.

“Bourbon,” he replied gruffly. “Kentucky, usually. Good drop.”

Twenty-three years old, but this discussion is still foreign territory for you. Your fingers can count the few times you've tasted alcohol—each occasion marred by your mother's voice in your head, warning of its evil. It's rather comical, considering how it once became her loyal companion for several years—that damned thing became the only thing she looked for after coming home from work and gulping it down flat on the living room sofa to dull her broken heart. You cannot yet judge her as a hypocrite or someone who has learned from her mistakes. As if a single glass would transform you into some fallen woman. It was always all or nothing with her; there was no concept of moderation.

Such inhibitions are not for Simon, though. A man of the world who has seen and done things that you could scarcely fathom. For him, a pint after work is as regular as taking a breath.

All too soon, you reach the stairs leading down to the station entrance. Your feet stopped when he did. Turning your body to face him, you gathered your courage and looked up. His eyes meet yours, and you see him about to open his mouth behind his surgical mask. No, you can't bear to hear that final goodbye.

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably have… something at my place.”

There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do.

It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension.

“Tea.”

When Simon replies with a single gruff word, you can't help but smile, ducking your head to hide it behind loose tendrils of hair. Lifting your eyes once more, you find him staring at you. Two people engaging in a silent game of deciphering, each trying to unravel the secrets of the other piece by piece.

“Tea,” you repeat softly, as if savoring the taste of the word.

Fingers twisting together, you steel your nerves before turning toward the stairs to lead the way down. You hear his footsteps fall solidly behind you. Not daring to look back out of fear that this dream will shatter, you mentally urge your feet faster.

At the platform's edge, mist curls between the rails like grasping fingers. Simon was standing right next to you. Slowly, the lights of an approaching train emerge, growing brighter by the second. With a weary hiss, the sliding doors open in front of you in welcome. You turned to Simon, then stepped aboard, and he followed, as you already knew.

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